


meaning of you

by baeconandeggs, kozen



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Casual Sex, Friends With Benefits, Light Angst, M/M, Mentions of open relationships, Slice of Life, mentions of past death of secondary character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-04
Updated: 2019-06-04
Packaged: 2020-04-08 00:39:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 38,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19096207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/baeconandeggs/pseuds/baeconandeggs, https://archiveofourown.org/users/kozen/pseuds/kozen
Summary: Famous author Byun Baekhyun is in need of inspiration when he meets the mysterious owner of a guesthouse in the countryside.





	1. heaven is a place on earth

**Author's Note:**

> thank you to Nikki for being eternally wonderful ♡ i'm pretty sure i got many things wrong about strawberry farming, but please ignore them haha. i had little time to write and edit so i'll be updating this soon! i was very surprised that so many of you liked it since i feel it's a bit rough 
> 
> anyways [here's](https://open.spotify.com/user/hyunas/playlist/61bUybxUq4BJx0BiByyDAP?si=cqsANtOfT3uNN1g5CYf5Ew) a playlist for this fic that i couldn't post earlier cuz *spoilers* lol i hope u guys like it! title comes from iu's song of the same name.

_ Tell me how all this, and love too, will ruin us. _

_ These, our bodies, possessed by light. _

_ Tell me we’ll never get used to it. _

—richard siken.

  
  
  
  


The sign over the door is crooked. 

 

That’s the first thing Baekhyun notices when he climbs out of the cab: it’s a small, wooden plank with the word ‘Caraluna’ painted in sky blue, the lettering wonky in a way that is endearingly sloppy. The next thing Baekhyun notices is that the house is big. A two-story house, the first floor built of rock and cement, much like every other low-roofed house in the village, and the second floor made of wood. 

 

The house is located on the outskirts of the village, surrounded by nothing but trees and endless hills. A town in the middle of nowhere is definitely a change from the fast-paced life of Seoul, but as a writer, Baekhyun needs the peace and quiet for his book to thrive. 

 

Baekhyun thanks the driver after he gets his bags out of the trunk. The car drives away in a cloud of dirt and Baekhyun struggles to get all his bags to the door. 

 

The door is thick, heavy wood, old as a relic. Baekhyun knocks twice and it takes a couple of moments for someone to open. On the other side, a man appears, not much older than Baekhyun, but nearly a head taller. The man looks surprised for a moment, blinking wide, round eyes at Baekhyun, a smile curling his plush mouth in an instant. 

 

“Hey, how can I help you?” the man asks. “Looking for a room?”

 

The man has a deep voice that startles Baekhyun. He’s also strikingly handsome. On his head is a fluffy mess of dark curls, pointy ears that protrude out of them. The green and yellow plaid shirt he’s wearing is a dismay, but to Baekhyun, the man looks like he’s walked straight out of a lumberjack magazine. 

 

“Yeah,” Baekhyun says. “A guide at the station told me that there was a guesthouse here…”

 

“This is the only guesthouse in town, I’m afraid.” The guy chuckles and motions inside. “You can leave your stuff here and I’ll get you signed in.” 

 

Unexpectedly, the man grabs a couple of Baekhyun’s bags to herd them into the hall. Baekhyun nearly swoons like a teenager at his manners and he has to tamp down a grin when the man straightens and leads him into an adjoining room. 

 

Inside the house is cozy, the walls in the hall painted a mint green while the walls in the living room are a pastel peach. The man walks over to a shelf, filled to the brim with books, and pulls out an old-fashioned logbook. As he looks for a pen, Baekhyun observes the plump swell of his bottom lip and the adorable bump on his nose, the tattoos on his arms bared by his rolled-up sleeves.

 

“You need to fill this out, and I’ll need your credit card information.”

 

“Okay.” Baekhyun picks up the pen and book. “You have a beautiful home.”

 

The man’s smile widens tenfold. “Thank you.”

 

Being a writer, Baekhyun notices every detail, like the crinkles at the corners of the man’s eyes when he smiles. He has to remind himself not to stare, and it’s helpful that the man leads him to the kitchen, where he can fill out his information comfortably on the table.

 

“We don’t get many tourists at this time of the year,” the man tells him. “Usually people come to see the farms in the spring or summer.”

 

“I’m not a tourist,” Baekhyun corrects him. “I’m just here for work and a break from the city.”

 

It’s how his agent had put it.  _ Take a break from the city. _ But what Baekhyun needs is inspiration, which hadn’t come to him at all since he started working on his book. His creativity had run dry and all his efforts had gone to the trash. 

 

“Work?” the man repeats with curiosity. “What kind of work brings you to Yangsu, if you don’t mind me asking?”

 

“I’m writing a book,” Baekhyun responds, “about the countryside.”

 

“Oh that’s nice.” The man takes Baekhyun’s card and types the information into his laptop. “Being an author is a fancy job, isn’t it?”

 

Baekhyun wouldn’t exactly call it fancy. But he has appeared on tv and radio shows promoting his first novel and met several celebrities. When the next one is released, he’s expected to go on an Asian tour to promote it. But the book needs to be written first.

 

Once he’s done, the man leads Baekhyun up the stairs, taking one of his bags. He chats Baekhyun up about the town, and Baekhyun tries his hardest to pay attention, but his mind wanders over the breadth of this man’s shoulders, his long legs trapped in those loose jeans that were trendy sometime in the past two decades. At the top of the stairs, he leads Baekhyun to a room at the end of a hallway and drops his bag outside.

 

“Home, sweet home,” the man says, opening the door to the room. “Hope you like it. It’s one of the biggest rooms in the house.”

 

The man winks at Baekhyun and Baekhyun chuckles nervously. “Well, thanks,” he says. “Guess I’ll have to put you in my dedications page… Uh, once I know your name…”

 

“Uh, I didn’t tell you my name?” The man laughs. “I’m Chanyeol. Park Chanyeol. Nice to meet you.”

 

“Byun Baekhyun.” He bows at the man, who mirrors him amusedly. “But maybe you already knew that.”

 

“No, actually,” Chanyeol says, cocking his head. “You don’t look familiar. You ever been on tv?”

 

“Yes,” Baekhyun says. “But maybe the shows weren’t for our age group.”

 

“Well, I don’t have a tv here anyways,” Chanyeol says. “I’ll leave you to get settled. If you need anything, just give me a shout and I’ll be right over.”

 

“Thanks,” Baekhyun says, grinning. “I’ll definitely let you know if I need anything.”

 

Chanyeol grins before he leaves the room. Baekhyun sighs, thinking about how hot he is, and lies on his side on the bed. Chanyeol is handsome, that’s for sure, but Baekhyun had noticed the ring on his wedding finger. It’s better not to get any ideas—he’s in Yangsu for work after all. But Baekhyun has a weak spot for pretty things and Chanyeol certainly is pretty. 

 

“Okay, enough about that,” Baekhyun mumbles to himself. “It’s time to get ready for a well-deserved nap.”

  
  
  
  


Hours later Baekhyun awakens to the last sunrays fighting feebly against the sprawling darkness in his room. There is a crick in his neck and his limbs are sore as he gets up from the bed and heads downstairs for a glass of water to satiate his thirst. It’s when he’s at the top of the stairs, looking down at the hall, that he remembers this isn’t his apartment, but a guesthouse in the middle of the countryside.

 

It takes another moment for his sleep-muddled brain to process the thought. Right, he’d come all the way to Yangsu to write a book. At least that was what he’d told everyone once he was done packing his bags. Time away from Seoul was the best way to avoid seeing Jongdae Kim’s face everywhere in Seoul in light of his upcoming comeback. That is the downside of sleeping with a very famous singer, Baekhyun had learned that recently.

 

Sounds of metal clanking together somewhere on the first floor distract Baekhyun from these thoughts. In the kitchen, Baekhyun finds Chanyeol rummaging through a cupboard chock-full of different-sized casseroles and baking tools. Chanyeol grumbles through his teeth as he tries to wrench free something from the mess and does a cheery little dance once he has the pan in his hand. When he spots Baekhyun in the doorway, he freezes in his spot and stares at him like a deer caught in the headlights.

 

“You scared the shit out of me!” Chanyeol exclaims, squeezing his shirt dramatically. “I thought you were a ghost or something.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Baekhyun laughs, walking into the kitchen. “I was kind of enjoying your little victory dance.”

 

“Don’t make fun of your host,” Chanyeol threatens teasingly, turning on the kitchen. He drips a bit of oil into the pan and then shuffles over to the fridge to grab a carton of eggs. “Or I’ll reconsider feeding you for the duration of your stay.”

 

It’s nice that Chanyeol is already comfortable enough around Baekhyun to initiate that kind of banter. Baekhyun grins as he stands near Chanyeol. “Are you really going to let your poor guest starve to death?”

 

Baekhyun pouts exaggeratedly, putting on the same puppy eyes that make Minseok buy anything Baekhyun wants for dinner. Chanyeol laughs, glancing at Baekhyun distractedly, though Baekhyun notices the way his eyes droop to his mouth, then lower and back to his face again. It happens in the blink of an eye, but Baekhyun smiles with intent. Then he catches sight of that ring on his finger and whatever hope might’ve been growing inside of him already withers away in the span of a single second.

 

_ Don’t flirt with the married guy, Baekhyun _ . After being dumped no more than two months ago, the last thing he needs is to be attracted to an unattainable guy while also living in the same house.

 

“I would never do that,” Chanyeol teases, “but I’ll keep it in mind, just in case.”

 

Chanyeol shoots him another grin, flanked by a dimple. The bags under his eyes suggest he’s sleepy already, or maybe he’d also just risen from an afternoon nap, which would explain the wild state of his untamed curls. Baekhyun thinks amusedly that the lime green shirt would make him look like a highlighter in a certain light. It would be funnier, if it weren’t for the fact the shirt is tight around his shoulders and short at the sleeves, exposing his broad shoulders and his firm biceps. 

 

“Well, I can make a mean boiled egg,” Baekhyun says. “You wouldn’t happen to have a stash of ramyun somewhere, would you? Because that’s basically about all I can cook well.” 

 

That gets Chanyeol laughing again, this time louder than the first. It’s a wheezing, staccato sound, that screws his eyes shut, marking little crinkles around the corners.  _ Cute _ , Baekhyun thinks, spellbound.  _ Very cute. _

 

“Should I help you with something?”

 

“No, no,” Chanyeol refuses adamantly, ushering Baekhyun to the table with a spatula. “You go and take a seat. It’s your first night here and you must be tired.” Chanyeol grins wide, showing all of his teeth. “But I’ll take you up on that offer later.”

 

“Okay, boss,” Baekhyun jokes. “I’ll just sit here and look pretty.”

 

The wife is still a no-show. Baekhyun wonders whether she’s out in the village and will be back later, but Chanyeol doesn’t look like he’s waiting for anyone, as he takes two beers out of the fridge during a lull in the conversation and passes one to Baekhyun with a charming grin.

 

“Is anyone else joining us?” Baekhyun asks.

 

“There aren’t usually many guests around this time of the year.” Chanyeol tastes the broth with a wooden spoon and makes a contented sound with his eyes closed. Baekhyun smiles. “You’re my only guest for now.”

 

“Oh,” Baekhyun says, trying not to think much about being alone with Chanyeol in this big house of his. Baekhyun isn’t sure he should ask; it would seem noisy, considering Chanyeol hasn’t mentioned her once since he arrived, which only exacerbates his curiosity. 

 

For a dizzying moment, Baekhyun wonders if Chanyeol is a serial killer, much like Norman Bates, luring people into his guesthouse just to kill them. Surely Baekhyun is his next victim, judging by how defenseless he is under this man’s charms.

 

“Yep, it’ll be just the two of us.” Chanyeol tosses Baekhyun a smile over his shoulder and Baekhyun forgets about wives and wedding rings for the evening. 

  
  
  
  


“Hey, you made it there alive!” 

 

“Hello, Minseok-hyung,” Baekhyun says, affectedly polite. “How is everything going with you?”

 

“Stop acting funny,” Minseok chides him with no heat. “I was worried you wouldn’t get good connection.”

 

“The connection is crappy, actually,” Baekhyun says. “I have to walk close to the village to get a couple of bars for a decent connection.”

 

Minseok tsks. Baekhyun bites down a snicker. They had this conversation countless times after Baekhyun dropped the bomb of his sudden moving. “Did you have to travel all the way across the country just to write that book? It couldn't have been somewhere a little closer to home?”

 

“Sorry, a writer must do what he has to do to get his inspiration running,” Baekhyun teases. “And you get some time away from me, too. It’s a win for everyone.”

 

“I can’t argue with you on that.” Minseok laughs on the other line and Baekhyun makes a mock affronted noise. But really, he’s smiling endearingly. “And it’s also a good chance for you to forget about... you know who.”

 

“Why are we still referring to Jongdae like that?" Baekhyun asks. “He’s not Voldemort. It’s okay to say his name, hyung.”

 

“Okay, sorry,” Minseok apologizes sheepishly. “Since you guys dated for a while...”

 

“We weren't dating like that,” Baekhyun corrects him, for like the tenth time. “He wasn't my boyfriend, hyung.”

 

“Alright,” Minseok caves with a sigh. Baekhyun smiles fondly. Minseok is ever so indulgent. “Call me if you need anything, okay? I'll send it to you right away.”

 

“Thank you, hyung,” Baekhyun says. “You love me so much.”

 

“Ew, no.” 

 

Minseok makes gagging sounds and then hangs up, leaving Baekhyun to giggle alone.

 

In the afternoon, Baekhyun heads to the strawberry farms on the other edge of town. The idea for his next book is vague: he has images of a girl working in the fields under the scalding sun all day, picking strawberries to afford a modest living. Perhaps he should take the easy route and make her fall in love with a man who breaks her heart in some way. But Baekhyun isn’t known for cliché stories—he’s known for the heart-wrenching plot twists that make his fans at meet and greets tell him they cried until four in the morning after finishing. 

 

The fields sprawl endlessly on either side of the road. There are cows and horses chewing on the grass or being herded by farmers near low-built houses, smoke rising from their chimneys. Baekhyun isn’t used to so much green. In his twenty-eight years of life, he’s left Seoul only a handful of times and it was always for the beach in Busan.

 

At the end of a dirt road secluded by trees is the strawberry farm that makes Yangsu famous. It’s a one-story house, just like the rest in the village. Baekhyun parks his car in the driveway and walks to the house. 

 

A short girl in an apron and red cotton dress comes out through the door. She smiles shyly at Baekhyun when she spots him, waving with a hand while the other holds a bucket. 

 

“Hello, I’m Baekhyun,” Baekhyun says, bowing. The girl dips her head. “I’m here to learn about strawberry picking. Are you the owner?”

 

“I’m the owner’s daughter,” she replies. “She’s out for the moment, but I can show you around, if you want. My name is Seulgi.”

 

“That’s a pretty name,” Baekhyun says. The girl giggles. Baekhyun is an expert at flirting. It comes in handy when his agent wants him to meet people and make connections at parties. “I’m at your service.”

 

The girl chuckles again. “Then follow me. I’ll show you around before we get to work.”

 

Seulgi leads him around the house to the back where the strawberry field unfolds under the sun in strips of green and brown. Strawberries hide among the leaves in red spots. Seulgi walks to a post where a handful of worn-out bucket hats are hanging and picks two for her and Baekhyun. 

 

“Here,” Seulgi says. “Hope you put on some sunscreen before you came over. It’s a bit hot today—we don’t get weather like this until April, so this is a bit unusual.” 

 

“It’s nice weather,” Baekhyun remarks, putting his hat on. It’s a bit big on him, but it keeps the sunrays at bay. “Seoul is so dreary and damp around this time. It rains even in spring.”

 

“I’ve never been to Seoul,” Seulgi comments. “I can’t imagine what people like about the city.”

 

“You’re not missing much,” Baekhyun laughs. “But it has its charms sometimes.”

 

Seoul is an endless cement jungle to Baekhyun. There are so many things hidden in its back alleys and steep inclines. Baekhyun loves the museums, its high-rises and the sunsets on top of buildings. The skyline looked particularly dazzling from his apartment on the twentieth floor of a building in the center of Apgujeong. 

 

“Meh, I’ll pass.” Seulgi shrugs, smiling when she makes Baekhyun laugh. “So what brings you here, Baekhyun-ssi? Just strawberry picking?”

 

“I’m writing a book,” Baekhyun tells her. “It’s set in the countryside so I’m looking for inspiration. I read about strawberry farms in Yangpyeon and thought why not… so if you need a volunteer, I can work for free just to learn the ropes.”

 

“A volunteer, huh?” Seulgi folds in her lips, a thoughtful crease between her brows. “I’ll have to discuss it with mom, but I don’t think she’ll have a problem. She’ll probably be glad to have another pair of hands around here. But she won’t let you work for free.”

 

“I’m good with everything,” Baekhyun tells her. “As long as I get to eat some strawberries.”

 

Seulgi laughs. “Of course you can take some with you. Now, I’ll show you how to do this so pay attention, okay?”

 

“Okay!” 

 

Baekhyun spends the entire afternoon hunched over the furrows. The season isn’t at its peak yet and most of the berries aren’t ripe for picking, so Seulgi teaches him the basics of how to take care of the plants by keeping the beds weed and pest-free, the right amount of water to irrigate the plants, and the best way to cut the stem so as to avoid hurting the berries. By the end of their lesson he has an aching back and a small batch of early-bloomed strawberries to take back to the guesthouse.

  
  
  
  


“Want some tea?”

 

The wooden boards under Baekhyun are cold. Baekhyun is used to walking barefoot at his apartment in Seoul because the floor heater is on whenever he’s home, sometimes even during the spring. At this old guesthouse in Yangsu with no heating, his feet are freezing. 

 

“Thanks,” Baekhyun mumbles. It’s a bit too early for him. He’d stumbled into the kitchen to get a coffee fix, he hadn’t expected Chanyeol to be there. This is his fourth day at the guesthouse, and Baekhyun hasn’t quite gotten used to living with another person, especially since said person has a habit of leaving and returning at odd times, often unannounced. 

 

(Baekhyun suspects Chanyeol doesn’t want to interrupt his writing sessions, which is adorable to Baekhyun in a way he can’t explain.)

 

Baekhyun’s schedule runs on writer’s hours; the mornings aren’t his specialty, but the quiet of the countryside has made it impossible for him to sleep in. 

 

“I was about to have breakfast,” Chanyeol says, filling the kettle with tap water. “Then I’m off to the village.”

 

Chanyeol looks impeccable in his baggy jeans that should’ve been left somewhere in the previous decade, and a baggy red plaid shirt, a white tee underneath. Baekhyun figures he’s very popular with the ladies around town. 

 

“I’m going to write today,” Baekhyun says. He’s already learned his way around the kitchen, and he goes about setting the table and taking two mugs from the cupboard. “Or try to, at least.”

 

Chanyeol laughs, opening the rice cooker. With a ladle he scoops rice into two bowls and brings them to the table. “You’ll have the house to yourself today. Maybe the silence will help with inspiration.”

 

“Maybe,” Baekhyun agrees. “It’s so quiet around here compared to Seoul. I can’t believe I used to work around all the noise from my neighbors and the city.”

 

The kettle whistles over the counter. Chanyeol pours the scalding water into the mugs, then sets the kettle on the table and takes a seat across from Baekhyun. 

 

“I guess it is,” Chanyeol says. “But I’ve lived my whole life here so I wouldn’t know the difference.”

 

“You’ve never wanted to leave Yangsu? Move somewhere else?”

 

Baekhyun regrets his words as soon as he utters them. Chanyeol’s eyes widen for half a second, then he looks down at his food. 

 

“I moved here when I got married,” Chanyeol tells Baekhyun. “It was around six years ago and we never really planned to move anywhere else.” A shrug. “It’s pretty nice here and I have everything I need really.”

 

“Right,” Baekhyun concedes quietly. “I’m pretty much always holed up in my room writing and I have everything I need there anyway.”

 

The last two years Baekhyun spent most of his time writing and meeting deadlines. Whenever he could squeeze in free time, he would call his latest conquest to entertain him and keep his inspiration running. 

 

A singer had been the latest one. Jongdae, his name was. The arrangement lasted fourteen months—a record for Baekhyun, whose conquests, typically models, never made it through a fashion season. Baekhyun wrote his first book in the interim of their meetups, fueled by the chemistry of their affair. On paper, the arrangement had been the same as all those who came before. In secret, Baekhyun had been falling for the man for nearly half the time they spent together. 

 

Twelve days before Christmas was the last time Baekhyun heard of him. On New Year’s Day, a friend of his had spotted the singer with a new boyfriend in Tokyo and Baekhyun knew then that it was over.

 

“And anyways, it can’t be that quiet with you around.” Baekhyun sneers at Chanyeol. It sets the tips of his pointy ears ablaze.  _ Cute. Cute. Cute _ . “There was enough noise the other day to rival a club in Itaewon.”

 

“Sorry about that,” Chanyeol chuckles, scratching his cheek. “I can get a bit loud in here, since there’s usually no one around…”

 

Chanyeol laughs, a wheezing, choppy sound that makes his eyes squint and crinkle at the corners. It’s unbearably endearing. Chanyeol’s voice is loud, raspy, but his presence is small, like an overgrown dog who still thinks he’s a puppy. His energy and earnestness spill out into the room like sunshine over the sea after a stormy night.

 

“What about your wife?” Baekhyun asks carefully. “Is she on a trip?”

 

Two days ago, Baekhyun had seen a picture of a beautiful woman on an end table in the living room, her honey brown hair braided under a large sunhat. In another picture Chanyeol appears with her in front of the birch tree at the back of the house, his arm draped around her waist and her head inclined towards him. They looked happy, glowing in a way that seemed untouchable. Jealousy had rushed through Baekhyun like bile, because it was a reminder that he’s never gotten to experience that kind of carefree joy with anyone. 

 

After that, it wasn’t long before he realized that those pictures were the only items denoting her presence around the house.

 

“Ah.” Chanyeol pauses to take a gulp of water before speaking. “Soojung—my wife—she died a couple years ago.”

 

“Oh,” Baekhyun says, heart in his stomach. “I’m so sorry…”

 

“It’s fine.” Chanyeol’s smile is small but reassuring. “It’s been a while since then.”

 

Baekhyun does not say anything. A part of him regrets having asked, especially at the way Chanyeol’s glow seems to have dimmed a little. His uneasiness doesn’t subside when Chanyeol stands from the table with his plate and tosses his unfinished breakfast in the bin. 

 

“You know, I borrowed your book from an auntie in the village,” Chanyeol says amiably as he rinses his mug in the sink. “I read the first two chapters last night and I gotta say, you’re really talented.” Placing the mug in the rack, Chanyeol wipes his hands on a towel, which he leaves over the counter. “I couldn’t put it down.”

 

That takes Baekhyun off guard. It’s an obvious tactic to change the subject and Baekhyun clings to it gratefully. “Thank you,” he says. “I hope you like it, or else I’ll have to find another guesthouse to stay in out of shame.”

 

“I won’t kick you out,” Chanyeol rebuts, “but I will probably move you to the smallest room in the house.”

 

Baekhyun laughs, “I can live with that.” Though he’s joking, he is kind of nervous about what Chanyeol will think of his books. He’s eager to hear his thoughts, to watch him dissect his story. The bookshelf packed to the brim with books in the living room is a statement to Chanyeol’s reading skills; most of the books are winkled with usage, meaning that Chanyeol has read them all thoroughly, and probably more than once. 

 

“I read the first couple of pages because I couldn’t help myself,” Chanyeol confesses. “And it looked great so far. I was advised to have some tissues at hand.”

 

Baekhyun’s first novel is a fantasy coming-of-age story about a human girl who befriends a merman. One day the girl asks the merman to take her to a mythological ghost ship, where all souls lost at sea end up in, to see her dead father. Since she’s human, a curse befalls her and she doesn’t live to see the following dawn. The merman waits for her by the shoreline every day, unaware of her death.

 

If Chanyeol read the first chapter, then he must’ve read the dedications page. Chanyeol must’ve seen the thing that haunts Baekhyun the most:  _ For J _ . Now Baekhyun realizes Chanyeol’s look is searching, knowing, and he wonders if he’s hesitating on asking. They’ve become close, but not close enough to talk about past relationships. And Baekhyun isn’t sure he would talk about it if Chanyeol asked.

 

“I don’t think it’s that bad,” Baekhyun says. “But a fan once brought a tear-stained page to a fansign and claimed she would sue me.”

 

Chanyeol guffaws, tipping his head back. It’s another habit of his that Baekhyun is growing fond of. “That’s so funny,” Chanyeol wheezes, slapping the armchair. “I’ll have my tear-stained page for you to autograph then.”

 

“I hope you don’t sell it on the internet,” Baekhyun jokes. “I don’t think it’ll be worth much.”

 

“Maybe I will.” Chanyeol’s smile is lopsided. Incredibly attractive. “Okay, I’m off now. There’s kimchi and mackerel in the fridge so you can make yourself something for lunch. I’ll be back as soon as I can, but Mrs. Kim always likes to have me over for lunch to thank me.”

 

“It’s fine,” Baekhyun laughs at Chanyeol’s explanation. Chanyeol is as talkative as Baekhyun, it seems. “Go ahead. I’m a big boy. I can take care of myself.”

 

Chanyeol nods, giving Baekhyun a little relieved smile. A sudden urge to laugh again fizzes inside Baekhyun. Chanyeol is such an attentive host. But Chanyeol places his hand on his shoulder, his palm warm and heavy, and it makes Baekhyun’s thoughts screech to halt. 

 

“See you later then.” Chanyeol meanders over the dip of his shoulder to his arm. “Good luck with your writing.” 

 

Baekhyun sits there, stunned. The touch has made every inch of his body tingle. When he recovers, Baekhyun grabs his mug and runs back to his room, burning with an unexpected surge of inspiration. The laptop is open on the desk, where he’d left it the previous night. Baekhyun plops down on the wooden chair and begins working, slow but steadfast, on this flimsy, gossamer idea before it evades him. By the time the light beyond the window has changed to amber-gold, Baekhyun has four thousand words and a vague idea of where he wants to take his story.

 

A break only comes in the evening when he drags himself downstairs to make a small, precarious dinner. Then he’s back behind his laptop for another couple hours until he collapses on the bed, exhausted, drained of any mental energy. 

  
  
  
  


The rest of that first week in the guesthouse passes in the same fashion. Inspiration has struck him like a lightning bolt; he writes furiously, fueled by caffeine and an aching desire to get each scene out of his system. By the end of it, the draft is at seventeen thousand words and his idea has taken a more solid shape. This kind of energy had been so rare in the last few months, Baekhyun was afraid it would slip away like sand through his fingers if he stopped to rest.

 

Once it gets dark outside, he has to force himself to shut off his laptop and go downstairs to help Chanyeol with dinner. 

 

Chanyeol is in the kitchen already, standing in front of a sizzling pan on the stove. Baekhyun arrives in the middle of Chanyeol’s heartfelt rendition of a song Baekhyun can’t recognize at first. Then he hears Jongdae’s distinctive high-pitched notes and his stomach roils with acid. 

 

“Hey, I was just going to call you,” Chanyeol says as a greeting. In the pan are plump dumplings bathing in hot oil. “Did you just wake up from a nap?”

 

“Why?” Baekhyun approaches Chanyeol. “I was writing actually. Do I look sleepy?”

 

“No, but you kinda look cranky.” Chanyeol smiles amusedly. It’s then Baekhyun realizes his expression is pinched, so he relaxes by letting a stream of air through his mouth that ruffles his bangs.

 

“I just don’t like that damn song,” Baekhyun grumbles. 

 

“Oh, not a Jongdae fan?” Chanyeol smiles kindly and tinkers with the radio to change the station. Strident static fills the room, then Tina Turner comes through with  _ What's Love Got to Do with It _ . “Ah I love this song.”

 

Baekhyun chuckles at Chanyeol’s old-fashioned music tastes. “So, what should I help you with?”

 

“You can help me take the food to the table.” Chanyeol turns off the stove and wipes his hands on a kitchen towel. “I’m pretty much done here.”

 

Baekhyun smiles sheepishly. “I’m sorry, you should’ve just knocked down my door and dragged me out of there.”

 

“If it’s going to produce another great book,” Chanyeol replies, “then I’ll just let you write all you want. I’ll take the food to your room and that’s it.”

 

“Room service, huh? This is the best place I’ve stayed in.”

 

The tips of Chanyeol’s ears darken a delightful red. Baekhyun has to bite his lower lip to keep a delighted sound of his own at bay. Chanyeol’s reactions are so cute, Baekhyun is constantly contemplating ways to see them. 

 

Chanyeol’s cooking is delicious, exactly how Baekhyun’s mom makes it. Baekhyun stuffs his mouth with food and barely speaks a word while Chanyeol tells him about the ahjumma he helped with her produce that day. Watching him speak is also delightful; he opens his eyes wide when he gets excited about something, his hands moving around animatedly, a spark ignited in his irises and crinkles in the corners of his eyes like physical traces of his joy. 

 

Maybe it’s a bit invasive to analyze Chanyeol like this, down to every habit and trait. But Baekhyun is a writer. Collecting details is part of his job. 

 

During a lull in their conversation, Chanyeol observes him furtively over his beer. Baekhyun can see the interest in those eyes, a question dancing right out of his gaze.

 

Then Chanyeol finally asks, “Who is J?”

 

“Ah,” Baekhyun says, “you saw that.”

 

“Yeah, well.” Chanyeol shrugs a shoulder, tugging at the right sleeve of his sweatshirt. “Sorry if I’m being nosy… My curiosity sometimes gets the best of me.”

 

“He's an ex…” Baekhyun blows out his cheeks in search of a fitting word for whatever Jongdae was. “Something.”

 

“An ex-something,” Chanyeol repeats, thoughtfully. “It sure was something if you dedicated a book to him.”

 

Baekhyun takes in the way Chanyeol doesn’t seem fazed by the male pronoun. Other things play out on his features, an intensity that overrides the hesitant curiosity from earlier. It’s like he’s trying to find something in Baekhyun’s expression, a secret puzzle that he can’t quite suss out by this detail alone. 

 

This scrutiny is a taste of his own medicine. Baekhyun meets Chanyeol stare for stare. It doesn’t last long, because, in the next blink, Chanyeol smiles, warm as ever, the way Baekhyun has begun to familiarize with him, his brown eyes retreating to a candid hue. 

 

“I kind of regret it now,” Baekhyun confesses, thumping the condensation on the neck of his beer. “But we all live with those regrets about our exes, don’t we? At least it wasn’t something dumb like a tattoo.”

 

Thankfully, Chanyeol doesn’t prod for more details. Jongdae isn’t as sore of a subject as it once was, but Baekhyun has never been one to kiss and tell, especially if said kisses had ended in heartbreak.

 

“I take it you’re not seeing anyone at the moment,” Chanyeol remarks, “given that you moved halfway across the country to write your book. Anyone waiting for you back home?”

 

Baekhyun is sure it’s not his imagination when Chanyeol’s eyes drop to his lips for a millisecond. A strange feeling invades him: there’s excitement, and the beginning of hope, deceitful as it is.

 

“No,” Baekhyun replies simply. “But I left some plants in the kitchen that probably need to be watered. Does that count?”

 

If Baekhyun had a couple more beers in him, he would be telling Chanyeol that he was the one left behind. But he doesn’t. So he focuses on the look of interest on Chanyeol, that sort of dopey smile he gets when he’s looking at Baekhyun sometimes. 

 

“We take care of our plants here,” Chanyeol teases, “but I won’t tell anyone.”

 

Baekhyun sets his cheek in his palm and smiles softly at Chanyeol. “Will you keep that secret for me?”

 

The corners of Chanyeol’s smile are tender, his eyes a velvety shade. “Of course. I’m good at keeping secrets.”

  
  
  
  


Winter passes quickly in Yangsu, to Baekhyun’s endless relief. In Seoul, winter seems to cling to the city, with its frosted sidewalks and flooded roads, the high-rises blending into grey skies. Baekhyun, faithful to his indoor nature, waits out the winter at home, and only ventures outside when he’s lured by an enticing offer: sometimes dinner with a friend, often sex without compromises.

 

This winter is not like all the others. Baekhyun discovers something new about Chanyeol every day. Like he rarely leaves the house without a straw sunhat that sits precariously over the mop of curls on his head. Or his habit of fixing doomed objects: every day he sits at the kitchen table, dozens of tiny pieces scattered about his newest dissection victim, often a broken clock or radio, sometimes just old artifacts he finds in the village and can’t bear to throw them away. His biggest project to date is an old bike he’d put together from scratch, its brakes failing to work no matter how many times Chanyeol has repaired them.

 

Chanyeol also has a soft spot for poetry. Sometimes, when he gets bored of fiction, he takes out old paperbacks, spines worn-out and pages time-yellowed, and reads them intently in the armchair, his round glasses attached at the bridge with thick tape. Chanyeol also teaches Baekhyun to care for the plants around the house that produce the fruit and vegetable they eat at lunch; how to trim the runners for the produce to grow healthy, and the exact amount of water that all the different plants, cactuses and flowers need. 

 

The most interesting habit of all is his love for cooking. He can cook anything, from japchae to puttanesca, with the flavor and expertise of a seasoned chef. Chanyeol appears happiest when he’s in the kitchen, putting together dinner or desserts, every ingredient handled with care and attentiveness. The tiramisu he’d prepared one day for lunch tasted like a slice of heaven in Baekhyun’s mouth, to the point he urged to tell Minseok about it during his next call. 

 

Baekhyun notices that Chanyeol hangs around the house more often. The host sits in the living room reading, listening to music quietly so as to not interrupt Baekhyun’s writing, but it always feels like he’s just waiting for Baekhyun to come down and keep him company. Sometimes Chanyeol takes out his old guitar and plays all the songs he knows after dinner. Baekhyun has taken to writing downstairs while he plays, suggesting songs when Chanyeol asks for recommendations.

 

The noise doesn’t bother him as he once thought it would. In fact, it’s become reassuring to know someone else is there during the long writing sessions, when he can’t untangle the words he needs from the cobweb of ideas in his mind.

  
  
  
  


Baekhyun is beginning to like the crooked sign above the door to the guesthouse. It’s a fitting addition to the slightly sloppy design of the house. 

 

That day had been spent in Seulgi’s farm, after she had made him promise to help her set some new plants for the incoming seasons, and trim down the runners so the plants use their energy on growing strawberries instead. 

 

Spending hours learning about strawberry farming is fascinating, and his inspiration is invigorated each time he visits the farm. His back, however, is not happy. Whenever he complains, Seulgi jokes about his aging body, often calling him old man to make him laugh and ultimately helps him keep up with the work. Besides the agonizing back pains, he’s sunburned on his face and arms, despite letting Seulgi put a generous amount of sunscreen on him. 

 

When he goes inside the house, there’s Norah Jones’ soothing voice floating from the living room. Chanyeol is in the armchair, reading a book, but he looks up when he registers Baekhyun standing in the entryway. The surprise in his handsome features molds into a pleased smile that bunches up his cheeks. A tiny moth beats euphoric wings against his breastbone. Baekhyun scratches over the spot and wills the invisible insect away.  

 

“You’re back,” Chanyeol says. “Want something to eat?”

 

“Maybe in a bit, Seulgi stuffed me with strawberry mochis at the farm,” Baekhyun says, sitting on the sofa. “I’m surprised you’re home today.”

 

“I just felt like staying in today,” Chanyeol lifts his book towards Baekhyun, “to catch up on my reading.”

 

Baekhyun reads the title on the cover:  _ Atonement _ by Ian McEwan. “Oh, I’ve read it before. How are you liking it so far?”

 

“Look, I know it’s almost a classic,” Chanyeol starts, putting the book down, “but his prose is a bit exhausting. It’s beautiful and captivating but winding, and it takes him forever to get to a point. Or maybe I’m just too lazy to pay attention.”

 

“I get you,” Baekhyun assures him. “It was a pain to get through.”

 

“And it’s rounding up to be pretty sad, I think.” Chanyeol frowns at the book, as though it’s just insulted him. “But I don’t think it could ever be as sad as yours.”

 

Chanyeol finished reading his book in two days. By the end of day two, he’d found Chanyeol curled up in the sofa with the book in front of him, clearly trying to hide his tears against the cushion. Baekhyun had felt guilty and amused at once, especially when Chanyeol ran up to him the next day to envelop him in a bear hug, because  _ you clearly need some love if you wrote that ending _ .

 

“I’m a writer,” Baekhyun had joked. “We’re not very cheery people sometimes.”

 

“This was depressing, Baekhyun,” Chanyeol refuted. “Beautifully well-written but depressing as hell. Someone clearly broke your heart.”

 

“Nobody broke my heart,” Baekhyun had replied, too quick to be convincing. “Maybe I just don’t believe in love.”

 

No sooner had the words been uttered, he wondered if they were true. Chanyeol’s smile had been mysterious, though Baekhyun could tell there was a knowing edge to it, as though he saw something unbeknownst to Baekhyun. 

 

“Uh,” Baekhyun mumbled. “TMI?”

 

Baekhyun laughed as Chanyeol laughed along with him, effectively putting an end to that conversation.

 

Right now, Chanyeol has that same kind of knowing spark in his gaze, dancing over to Baekhyun and returning to his book, all in the span of a second. Baekhyun chooses to ignore it. 

 

“Well, it’s not as great as mine,” Baekhyun tells him. Chanyeol wheezes, his whole body shaking in the armchair. 

 

“How is the book going by the way?”

 

Baekhyun winces at the mention of his writing. The truth is, Baekhyun had barely written a mere five-hundred words the previous day and around eight hundred the day before. This week, Baekhyun had hit an unexpected wall; he’d sat at his desk, trying his hardest to churn out words, only to come up empty and frustrated. So the previous night he’d given up and gone to bed early to catch up on all the sleep he’d missed over writing in the last month.

 

Baekhyun tells Chanyeol about this in detail. Chanyeol responds to it with effective empathy, his eyebrows sloped and mouth puckering, shiny pink from the sesame oil. In the middle of his rant, Baekhyun realizes he’d never had someone to listen attentively after a failed writing session—sometimes he’d vent to Minseok, who would advise him to wait it out, mostly just to get him out of his hair. It’s comforting, to say the least.

 

“What if we go on a hike?” Chanyeol proposes. “Maybe you’ll find some inspiration there.”

 

A change of scenery has helped to freshen his inspiration in the past . Besides, Baekhyun hasn’t allowed himself much time to wander around and appreciate the sights yet, too pressed to get ahead with his draft—and he gets to spend some time outside with Chanyeol. At least he’s getting something good out of this writer’s block.

 

“Sure.”

 

Thirty minutes later, they head out toward the steep hills with a backpack full of snacks and water bottles. The sun hides behind clouds above, but as they reach the main trail, the sunlight is less pale. They walk past the agricultural fields, where some farmers can be seen preparing for the coming of spring. 

 

Once they reach a steeper part of the trail, the sun is warm on Baekhyun’s face. The grass is dewy still from sunrise and his shoes are slippery over the damp dirt. At first Baekhyun isn’t as fatigued as he assumed; all the time spent in the gym post-breakup had paid off. Though he does have to stop to rest halfway through the climb, just because it feels like if he doesn’t take a gulp of water, his lungs will explode and he’ll go tumbling down back to the base of the hill.

 

Of course Chanyeol can’t miss a chance to poke fun at him. “Should I get you a cane, old man?”

 

“No,” Baekhyun heaves out a response. “I’m good.”

 

“I thought you Seoulites were used to steep streets and climbing stairs.”

 

Chanyeol sinks a heavy hand on Baekhyun’s shoulder. Baekhyun takes a large gulp of water to distract himself from the way his palm is warm against his cooling skin. “There are these things… called taxis and elevators… you know.”

 

It earns him a good barking laugh from Chanyeol. Baekhyun takes another swig from his bottle and nearly chokes when Chanyeol’s back in his personal space, knuckles stroking along his cheek, up over where his hair has matted to his temple with sweat. 

 

“C’mon, we need to get going,” Chanyeol says, taking a step back. “There’s still a bit of trail left.”

 

From his profile, Baekhyun can spy the hint of a sly smile on Chanyeol’s lips, obscured under the shadow cast by his sunhat. As Baekhyun snaps out of his daze, he smiles and springs to his feet to follow after him.

  
  
  
  


On top of the hill, the view is breathtaking. The hills rise in gentle inclines along the land, like tidal waves, and the winding trails look like veins along a lush sea of green. The mountains in the distance are diffusive under the clouds atop their crests.

 

“This is beautiful,” he tells Chanyeol in awe. “No wonder you never want to leave—I wouldn’t either if I had this view.”

 

Chanyeol has sat next to him, his sunhat in his lap, and drinking from a bottle he passes over to Baekhyun when he’s done. Glancing away from the landscape, he’s gripped by another type of beauty: Chanyeol’s flushed cheeks, the glistening sweat along his neck, the whirly tips of his bangs plastered to his forehead. 

 

“It’s quite the view, isn’t it.” Chanyeol takes two oranges from the bag and passes one to Baekhyun. “Even after all this time, it hasn’t lost its magic. It probably never will, really. That’s what I love about this place.” He digs a blunt fingernail into an orange to peel it. “When I was a kid I used to come here and roll down this hill with Sehun. The ahjussi who owned the land chased us around whenever he caught us, until he got a huge dog and we just decided to stop coming.”

 

Baekhyun guffaws, nearly falling backwards. Instead he leans heavily onto Chanyeol, head nested on his shoulder. Chanyeol sets a palm on the grass to avoid toppling over from Baekhyun’s weight and his other arm sneaks around him to rest a palm over his stomach. Even through the fabric Baekhyun can feel Chanyeol’s sun-warmed skin. The touch is welcome, expected even; Baekhyun has had time over the weeks to get used to Chanyeol’s habit of touching everyone within his reach. Though it rarely leaves him unscathed, with the way his heart usually stumbles, his heart racing to catch up with his reeling thoughts.

 

This time, though, the heat of Chanyeol’s body distracts him from an email he found that morning in his inbox. Sender: Kim Jongdae. Subject: none. Inside there was only a short sentence:  _ hi haven’t seen u around in a while how are u? _

 

Baekhyun had dragged it straight to the tiny grey trash can and decided to forget all about it by breakfast.

 

“What’s in that big head of yours?”

 

Chanyeol whispers straight into his ear. A shiver tiptoes up Baekhyun’s spine, as perceptible as lips dragging across his skin. Chanyeol must be feeling extra touchy today, because his nose traces along the apple of his cheek, his curls tickling his forehead, before he retreats and faces ahead. It does funny things to Baekhyun’s heartrate.

 

“I think I could stay here forever,” Baekhyun replies lowly. Chanyeol moves closer, his hand draped comfortably over the jut of Baekhyun’s hip. “Just looking out into the village and the mountains like this. The company could be better, but nothing is ever perfect.”

 

“How could you have found this place without me, huh?” Chanyeol tightens his grip on him for emphasis. “I’m the funnest tourist guide around. You really lucked out with me. Someone else would’ve just left you on the climb when you started sounding like a choked dog.”

 

“Shut the hell up.” Baekhyun pinches Chanyeol’s thigh. Chanyeol starts, emitting a tiny squeal that makes Baekhyun laugh harder. 

 

They lapse into a comfortable silence again, where Baekhyun can hear the soothing sound of Chanyeol’s breathing, along with birds calling out to each other in the distance, their trees ruffled by a gust of wind.

 

“Maybe you can immortalize this place in your novel,” Chanyeol proposes after a while. “That’s what I love about books, you know. Whatever can’t happen in real life, it can happen in fiction.”

 

Baekhyun says nothing to that. In his stories, there aren’t happy endings. None of the muses he dreamed up for his characters stayed with him. Fiction wasn’t better than life in this case.

 

Chanyeol’s presence is so inviting, enthralling, Baekhyun curls up to his side and wonders if he could ever believe in the impossible like Chanyeol does.

  
  
  
  


They eat dinner in a pub owned by Kyungsoo, a friend of Chanyeol’s in the village. Kyungsoo makes sure to keep the drinks coming, along with a plate of chips, courtesy of the house. By their fourth drink, Chanyeol speaks close to Baekhyun’s ear, slurred words and hiccupy laughter that makes Baekhyun laugh harder than the joke itself. A shiver crawls down his spine each time Chanyeol drags his lips over the shell of his ear, his breath teasing his skin.

 

It’s well past midnight when Kyungsoo comes over to their table to kick them out because it’s closing time. As they make their way to the guesthouse, Chanyeol leans into Baekhyun, an arm wrapped tightly around his waist and stepping carefully over his already wobbly steps, so as to not topple face-first onto the ground.

 

Chanyeol definitely drank more than Baekhyun, judging by how he giggles and croons to songs from the 80’s the whole way home. When Baekhyun opens the door, while holding onto a precariously balanced Chanyeol, Chanyeol manages to wrench himself free and tumble ahead on his own, only to trip over the carpet in the hallway. Chanyeol falls onto the floor with a high-pitched whimper, and Baekhyun gasps, shocked, then cackles so hard he has to clutch his stomach.

 

“God, you’re so clumsy,” Baekhyun titters, walking over to the whining pile of limbs. Chanyeol’s eyes are fluttering shut; Baekhyun guesses he should get him off the floor before he falls asleep right there. “Okay, let’s get you up. You need to help me get you to your room because I’ll never manage on my own.”

 

“Here… is… fine,” mutters Chanyeol. 

 

“No, let’s go.” Baekhyun grabs Chanyeol’s arm to help him to his feet. It works: Chanyeol deliberately slumps his weight on Baekhyun, head buried in Baekhyun’s hair, as he drags him across to the couch so he can sleep there. No way in hell he’ll be able to drag him all the way upstairs, lest he wants to risk falling down the steps or being crushed by Chanyeol. 

 

Chanyeol sits on the couch, and immediately starts taking off his jacket, followed promptly by his shirt. Baekhyun hated that shirt. Bright yellow, oversized. So large, it hangs over Chanyeol like a tent. Baekhyun entertained the idea of Chanyeol without it for most of the night, but at the first glimpse of a patch of bare skin, Baekhyun runs upstairs to fetch a set of pajamas from Chanyeol’s room. 

 

When he returns, Chanyeol is in his underwear, already curled up on the couch and shivering from the cold. Baekhyun throws a blanket over him and tucks his feet under it as best as he can. Chanyeol mumbles in his sleep, and Baekhyun brushes the curls off his forehead. Instinctively, Chanyeol seeks out the touch, and his eyes open to a slit, unfocused and glazed, pointed in Baekhyun’s general direction.

 

“Stay with me,” Chanyeol mutters, making a grab for Baekhyun. “I don’t want you to go.”

 

“You want me to sleep here?” Baekhyun looks around. The couch is the only comfortable surface to sleep on. The other option is the floor, with the potential threat of Chanyeol puking on his head. “It’s a bit cold in here…”

 

“Want you,” Chanyeol mutters, eyes closed. “Here.”

 

Chanyeol burps into the pillow, then releases a long groan. His brows are furrowed, lips downturned in a pout. Baekhyun laughs, caressing Chanyeol’s curls again. “You’re cute,” he says quietly. “Gross but cute.”

 

In the end, Baekhyun sets two pillows and a blanket on the floor next to the couch. Chanyeol is snoring by the time Baekhyun has slipped under the blanket, in an old shirt and boxers. The other man looks relaxed, his mouth open and forehead creased. Baekhyun reaches over to smooth his frown with his thumb, then lets his fingers drag over the crest of Chanyeol’s cheek, the sharp line of his jaw, to his plump lips. There are three pimples along his cheekbone and another two on his nose, yet the most ethereal of places in Yangsu couldn’t hold a candle to his beauty.

 

Baekhyun contemplates how close Chanyeol sat to him on the hill that afternoon and later in the pub. If Baekhyun has learned anything this past month is that Chanyeol lacks a basic concept of personal space, his touch meaning nothing more than friendliness. Still, a wild hope flares within Baekhyun for it to mean  _ something _ .

 

At the same time, Baekhyun doesn’t want to press him, in case he’s completely wrong, which is why he hasn’t made any outright moves yet. But Chanyeol’s persisting touches, his flirty tones, his lingering gazes…. it all drives Baekhyun up the wall. No sane man would withstand being teased like this for long.

 

“Just go to sleep,” Baekhyun mumbles to the dark, “you horny asshole.”

  
  
  
  


By the end of February, Baekhyun has managed to write a whopping thirty-thousand words. It’s been mostly written in the afternoons or tucked into the late hours of the evening when he isn’t with Chanyeol.

 

Over the weeks, Baekhyun has realized that they’ve unknowingly built a routine. Breakfast in the morning, dinner at night, when Chanyeol’s returned from the village and Baekhyun has exhausted his energy writing. Chanyeol even knows how he likes his eggs, his coffee. For Baekhyun, he’s learned that Chanyeol whistles when he’s had a good day and scrunches his face when he’s reached a sad part in a book. He ties his shoelaces precariously, and sometimes returns to the guesthouse with mud on his knees.

 

Until then, Baekhyun hadn’t lived with another person since college. His dates would parade in and out of his apartment, rarely ever spending the night. In the fourteen months of their relationship, Jongdae had stayed over a total of ten times. He was always busy: radio shows, music shows, fashion shows, whatever shows. Baekhyun never pressed, never questioned. He was there to make him happy,  _ keep  _ him happy, and get a good dicking in return.

 

Routines were for old married couples. Baekhyun never desired one. This routine with Chanyeol is pleasant. Comfortable. Baekhyun finds himself looking forward to hearing about Chanyeol’s day in the evening and in turn telling Chanyeol about the plot he has yet to work out. Chanyeol never prods, never fishes for more than what Baekhyun gives him. And it’s nice.

 

On a particularly crisp morning, Chanyeol isn’t in the kitchen when Baekhyun comes down for breakfast. After searching the house, he finds him at the back, sitting on the steps to the garden with his guitar. The sky is a grey vault over the silver carpet of the sea, a breeze playing with the dark strands of Chanyeol’s hair, his green plaid shirt billowing behind. Yet the man does not move from that spot.

 

“I made you some tea, in case you got cold out here.”

 

Chanyeol looks confused when Baekhyun joins him some time after noon, as though he’d forgotten he wasn’t alone in the house. It quickly transforms into a smile, forged as it is, that Baekhyun returns in kind. 

 

“Thanks,” Chanyeol murmurs, taking the mug from Baekhyun in both hands. “It was getting a bit cold. Winds come down the mountains sometimes, but at least they drive away the rainclouds.” Chanyeol stops, mug mid-air, and sniffs the air. “Wait—are you cooking?”

 

“Yeah, I mean, I’m trying to,” Baekhyun mumbles, laughing self-consciously. Heat creeps up his neck at the intent in Chanyeol’s stare, and he stares straight ahead, rubs his palms over his jeans absently. “It’s not fair you always do most of the cooking.”

 

Baekhyun’s fingers stink of the tangy smell. In Seoul, Baekhyun cooked a handful of times a month, mostly because it interrupted his writing and because he hated the smell it left on his skin. But he felt obligated to do something nice for Chanyeol today; he’s been nothing but nice to Baekhyun since he arrived at the guesthouse.

 

“You really don’t have to,” Chanyeol rushes to say, leaving the mug on the floor. “You’re my guest and cooking for you is no bother to me at all.”

 

“God, you’re so nice,” Baekhyun says, shaking his head. “I don’t believe there’s a mean bone in your body. Even if you told me so, I wouldn’t believe you.”

 

That puts a smile on Chanyeol. Small but genuine. The first real smile Baekhyun has seen from him that day. Baekhyun considers it a win. 

 

“What if you help me out in the kitchen,” Baekhyun proposes, “and we eat lunch out here? It’ll probably be warmer by the time we’re done.”

 

They work to put lunch together elbow to elbow. Chanyeol plays one of his favorite records. Baekhyun doesn’t think he’s ever done something this domestic; sometimes he eats over at his friends’ houses, mostly Jongdae's, but it’s always helping to put the takeout on plates. 

 

As Baekhyun predicted, the sun peeks through the clouds once they get set up outside. Chanyeol places an old sitting mat on the grass and Baekhyun takes out all the food they had previously put in a wicker basket.

 

“Told you the weather would be nice, didn’t I?” Baekhyun boasts, grabbing a dumpling with his chopsticks.

 

“It’s almost like you’re the country guy now,” Chanyeol jokes. “You’ve become accustomed to it, haven’t you?”

 

“A little,” Baekhyun teases. “Maybe it’s just the company.”

 

Chanyeol flushes, a pink-red spreading atop his cheeks. It’s so surprising to Baekhyun, so pleasing, that he grins at the host’s sheepish smile. 

 

“Are you feeling better now?”

 

“A little,” Chanyeol says quietly. His smile wanes as he looks out at the sea. “It’s my wife’s death anniversary.”

 

Chanyeol rolls his wedding ring with his left fingers. There’s that look back on his face, the distant, far-off look that makes him look both younger and older than he is at once.

 

“I’m sorry,” Baekhyun murmurs. “I didn’t know.”

 

“No, it’s okay,” Chanyeol reassures. “How could you have known anyway? I never talk about her. It’s not very easy for me still, but it’s gotten better.”

 

“What happened to her?”

 

“A car accident.” Chanyeol takes off his ring and rubs it between his index and thumb. “She’d gone to visit her parents in a nearby village. It had snowed the previous night and it was too dark out, the roads too slippery.”

 

“Chanyeol, I’m so sorry,” Baekhyun says, rushing to put his hand on Chanyeol’s arm. It’s a reflex reaction, which Chanyeol doesn’t reject. “If I had known…”

 

“No, you’re not a mind reader,” Chanyeol chuckles. It’s a sad, flat sound, but his smile is encouraging. “Don’t apologize, Baekhyun.”

 

Baekhyun smiles at Chanyeol and doesn’t let go of his arm. Instead, he scoots closer to the other man, the food lying forgotten around them.

 

“The thing that haunts me most is that she wasn’t found right away,” Chanyeol goes on. “Since cars don’t drive through those roads often, it actually took nearly an entire day before anyone found her. I thought she had taken an extra day at her parents and she would be back later… I didn’t even call her to ask. I couldn’t sleep for days after the police told me. Maybe if I’d checked up on her, she would’ve gotten help earlier and…”

 

“Chanyeol, it’s not your fault,” Baekhyun reassures, squeezing his arm. “You couldn’t have known.”

 

Chanyeol gulps, staring into space. “I just feel so bad I wasn’t there for her. Just thinking about how alone and helpless she must’ve felt there… I don’t even remember the last thing I told her. I don’t even remember if I kissed her before she left. We’d had a fight days before because she felt trapped and bored here, so she decided to take a trip to her parent’s. I still regret not going with her.”

 

Baekhyun doesn’t know what to say, so he says nothing at all. Chanyeol is quiet for a long moment, then he gives Baekhyun a tiny, rueful smile, his big, bright eyes glittering with unshed tears.

 

“I’m sorry I’m oversharing,” Chanyeol laments. “I ruined the mood completely.”

 

“Don’t say sorry,” Baekhyun says, tightening his hold on Chanyeol. “I bet it was hard enough to talk about it. But I don’t want you to blame yourself.”

 

Chanyeol nods, then he puts his hand on Baekhyun’s, covering it entirely. “Thank you for listening to this depressing old man,” he jokes, his voice wet. Baekhyun glosses over it with a chuckle. “Like I said, it’s better now… but some days I think about her more than usual. Like today. She used to sit outside and paint when it was cloudy. I don’t know why she liked those days more than sunny weather.”

 

“It’s really nice out here,” Baekhyun comments. “Even when it’s cloudy, it still looks beautiful.”

 

“I know,” Chanyeol says. “My parents are always nagging me about selling the house and moving into the village, but I like it here. It’s peaceful and beautiful. It’s quiet enough to read—god knows it wouldn’t be this quiet if I lived closer to the bar. And if I feel lonely, I just head out into the village.”

 

Baekhyun almost asks how lonely he gets in here, in this big, old house, but he assumes it’s often. It makes his heart squeeze in his chest at the thought of Chanyeol, earnest, lovely, funny Chanyeol, being lonely. 

 

“I make too much noise to let it be too quiet,” Baekhyun quips. “I’m probably louder than a bar.”

 

“I’ve heard you singing in the shower,” Chanyeol laughs. Baekhyun groans, closing his eyes. “But you have a nice voice so you can stay. Maybe you could sing with me and the guitar.”

 

“I’m too shy,” Baekhyun teases, smiling coquettishly. “I think I’m a better writer than am I a singer, which is saying a lot.”

 

“Oh, no,” Chanyeol says. “We’re not bashing your work here. I think you’re great. Sehun agrees with me, so that’s two against one.”

 

It’s Baekhyun who blushes this time. He smiles, looking down at his shoes, but when he glances at Chanyeol, he is staring at Baekhyun so intently, a look that Baekhyun can’t pin down no matter how good he is at describing. 

 

“How are you going to convince me?” Baekhyun asks playfully. 

 

“I’ll find a way,” Chanyeol replies, voice dropped dangerously low. “Flattering you every once in a while, or every day…”

 

Baekhyun realizes then how close they’re sitting, thighs pressed together and arms touching. If Baekhyun wanted he could put his head on Chanyeol’s shoulder or kiss his neck… Both scenarios are tempting but terrifying. With each day that passes, his attraction for Chanyeol worsens, and it doesn’t seem it’ll wane any time soon, what with the way they’ve become so comfortable around each other. And he isn’t sure whether Chanyeol is flirting with him right now or it’s just Baekhyun’s wishful thinking. 

 

“I’ll have to remind you how good of a cook you are then,” Baekhyun says, “to make it even. Though most of it has grown cold by now.”

 

Chanyeol’s ears redden, though his smile is pleased. “It’s my fault,” he says. “But I’ll make dinner to make it up. If my assistant chef helps me, of course.”

Baekhyun loves the reaction that simple praise got. It’s clear Chanyeol likes being praised. Baekhyun wonders how else he would react to other kind of praise, what kind of sounds he would get out of him if he praised while he was doing things to please Baekhyun. 

 

“My cooking is not as good as what you ate in Seoul,” Chanyeol says. “You’re probably used to eating in fancy restaurants and all that.”

 

“Sometimes,” Baekhyun says. He’s a little surprised that Chanyeol has thought about him, about his life before he came to Yangsu. Surprised and exhilarated. “I mostly ate take out when I was too lazy to cook or go out, which probably isn’t healthy in the long run.”

 

“What kind of foods did you eat?” Chanyeol wonders. “Maybe I could try and make you your favorite plate.”

 

Baekhyun’s eyes widen. “Would you do that? That’s…” The last time someone cooked for him was Minseok. It was his girlfriend’s birthday and he’d invited Baekhyun over for dinner. None of his fuck buddies ever tried, for sure. “That’s so nice of you.”

 

“I have to be a terrific host,” Chanyeol teases. “Or else what’s the point of your stay.”

 

“I think it’s shaping up to be a great stay, to be honest.”

 

Baekhyun stares straight into Chanyeol’s eyes. Chanyeol smiles, bashful, but he doesn’t look away. Baekhyun thinks he’s really starting to like that look on Chanyeol. 

  
  
  
  


Spring can be felt tiptoeing around the corner as March settles in. It means more time eating lunch outside and watching the ocean, the tide less tumultuous, Chanyeol playing his guitar and Baekhyun on his laptop. It means more time spent on the sofa, engulfed in their respective books, listening to one of Chanyeol’s albums from yesteryear and drinking steaming cups of hot cocoa. 

 

With the warmer climate, Chanyeol has taken to dragging Baekhyun along on his shopping trips to the village. Baekhyun becomes fast friends with the ahjummas in town, and they coo over him, as much as they coo over Chanyeol whenever they see him. On their way back, Chanyeol leads him through lost trails in the fields or up on the hills, just so Baekhyun can gape at the sights.

 

During a trip to grab fresh bread at a local bakery, Baekhyun hears a familiar voice coming from the tiny tv behind the cashier. Jongdae Kim singing his latest single on a music show. Remembering Jongdae doesn’t sting as much as it did when he first came to the village, but it does leave a bitter taste in his mouth that doesn’t fade as quickly as he’d like.

 

“Is there something wrong?” Chanyeol queries, an hour later. “You’ve been quiet since we left the village.”

 

“I’m fine,” Baekhyun responds lightly. “Just tired. I didn’t sleep well last night.”

 

“Stayed up writing?”

 

Baekhyun had barely slept the previous night, struck by a sudden burst of inspiration. By the time he’d closed the lid of his laptop, the first grey rays of dawn were sneaking through his window. 

 

“Yeah.” Baekhyun smiles guiltily. “It’s a bad habit, but… it gets the job done.”

 

“I’m surprised you haven’t caught a cold yet,” Chanyeol tells him. “You must have crazy good defenses, because the house is always cold.”

 

“Will you take care of me if I get sick, Chanyeollie?” 

 

Baekhyun bats his lashes coquettishly at Chanyeol, who just laughs and shoves him. “You’re a big boy,” Chanyeol repeats Baekhyun’s own words from when he’d just arrived to the guesthouse. “You can take care of yourself, right?”

 

Chanyeol’s smile is crooked. Baekhyun pouts exaggeratedly, just to distract himself from the way his stomach has knotted up at the sight of that smile. Just then, they reach the top of the hill and look down into a clearing, where spring flowers are already blossoming as the weather thaws. 

 

“Wow,” Baekhyun breathes in wonder. “This is heaven on earth.”

 

Chanyeol plops down on the grass, his backpack snug between his thighs. “Beautiful, isn’t it?”

 

“I’m jealous of you,” Baekhyun admits, sitting next to Chanyeol. “That you have a place like this so close to home, you can just come out and visit it anytime.”

 

“The countryside is beautiful,” Chanyeol agrees, “but sometimes it can get lonely. I think it’s better when there’s someone to share these places with.”

 

“Well, I’m here with you,” Baekhyun tells him, bumping his arm with his shoulder. “We’re creating a new memory right now.”

 

Chanyeol looks at him intently, as though he’s trying to see right through him. Then he smiles, sweet, a grateful tinge to it that constricts Baekhyun’s chest. Driven by a sudden boldness, Baekhyun reaches for Chanyeol’s hand and laces their fingers together. Chanyeol’s eyes are glued to their hands, and when he meets Baekhyun’s gaze, that smile is back, just a tad wider. Baekhyun is drawn to that spark in his eyes, and he stares long enough that he has to create excuse for himself by attempting to tame the unruly curls on Chanyeol’s head dancing in the wind. 

 

“Are you feeling better now?”

 

The question throws Baekhyun off. “What do you mean?”

 

“You don’t look so sad anymore,” Chanyeol observes, thoughtful. Almond eyes roam over Baekhyun, as though looking for any sign of sadness they’ve missed. “When you got here, you looked like you wanted desperately to get away from something—or someone—but now you look more… relaxed. Happier.”

 

“It was your cooking,” Baekhyun jests, looking away. All the attention has made him blush like a schoolgirl. Chanyeol thinking of him, of his reason to come to Yangsu, fills him with a strange, electrifying thrill. Baekhyun believes it’s Chanyeol’s personality that has cured him in part—his happiness infects everything it touches. 

 

“I think it was this place,” Chanyeol says, finally steering his gaze away. “It has a way of working its magic on people. Speaking of,” Chanyeol’s eyes lit up with an idea, “there’s one more place I want to show you.”

  
  
  
  


The sky is painted in shades of orange and fuchsia when they reach a secluded beach. They walked for an hour to get there and Baekhyun plops into the sand to rest his feet. Chanyeol, on the other hand, takes off his shoes and socks, followed—and Baekhyun gawks—by his shirt.

 

“What are you doing?!”

 

“I’m going for a swim!” Chanyeol hollers, unbuttoning his pants. “Why’d you think we walked all this way here?”

 

“Chanyeol, I don’t—” Baekhyun has to stop and stare at Chanyeol’s thighs as he pulls down his pants. “I don’t want to skinny-dip in the middle of nowhere!”

 

Chanyeol just gives Baekhyun a funny look while he hops around trying to tug his left leg off his pants. After almost toppling onto the sand, Chanyeol frees his leg and tosses his pants over Baekhyun’s general direction. “C’mon, there’s nobody around to judge you!” 

 

Without waiting for a response, Chanyeol turns and sets off towards the water, opening his arms wide and hollering like a crazy man. Chanyeol waddles into the water, and once a wave comes in, he dives under it, only to come out a moment later gasping, shaking his wet hair out of his face. Chanyeol squints the water out of his eyes and beckons Baekhyun in with a wave, his grin nearly swallowing his face. 

 

With a sigh, Baekhyun gets to his feet and mutters, “Fuck it.”

 

Chanyeol wolf-whistles from the water as Baekhyun takes off his shirt and tosses into the pile Chanyeol had left behind. Baekhyun flips him off, but he can’t help a smile as he takes off his sneakers and shorts. He shivers a little at the breeze from the waves, the attention from Chanyeol, and he runs to the sea to avoid knowing what kind of look is on his face. 

 

Baekhyun gasps when he touches the water; it’s not temperate, but for his warm body it feels like a bucket of ice-cold water thrown over his head. “Chanyeol, you’re so dead!” 

 

“Just dive in!” Chanyeol exclaims. “You’ll forget about the cold!” 

 

Baekhyun sends him one last glare before he takes in a gulp of breath and dives into the water. After a few seconds he opens his eyes to see Chanyeol’s legs ahead of him and he propels himself forward to pull at Chanyeol’s right leg. When he resurfaces, Chanyeol is squeaking, frowning at him after an obvious fright, and Baekhyun guffaws, throwing his wet hair back with a hand.  

 

“That’s what you get for bringing me into your stupid ideas,” Baekhyun says. “Did you think I was a shark or something?”

 

“Don’t pretend you’re not enjoying yourself,” Chanyeol rebuts with a smirk. “This beach is lovely… I come here a lot to read or just swim for a while. It’s always deserted except for the summer.”

 

“Well, that makes me feel a little better about getting our stuff stolen,” Baekhyun jokes. “Wouldn’t like to go back to the guesthouse in just my undies.”

 

“Why not,” Chanyeol teases. “You look pretty good in your boxers, if I say so myself.”

 

“Did you just bring me here to ogle me?” Baekhyun laughs, his stomach lurching at the insinuation furled in the rumble of his voice. 

 

“I won’t answer that,” Chanyeol declares. The smirk he’s sporting is both infuriating and attractive at once. It has an arbitrary effect on Baekhyun: outwardly, he rolls his eyes exaggeratedly; inwardly, a million butterflies dance along his ribs, their gauzy wings ticklish. 

 

Whatever lame comeback Baekhyun had in store perishes when Chanyeol disappears underwater and swims away from him. Baekhyun chases after, swimming butterfly style, because it’s the only way he’s done it since he was a child. Chanyeol appears to be waiting for him by the time he reaches him, for he splashes water at Baekhyun, cackling like a maniac. Baekhyun dives under to avoid his attacks, only to resurface seconds later and shoot a stream of water at Chanyeol from his mouth. 

 

“That’s gross!” Chanyeol shrieks, laughing. He splashes water in retaliation and Baekhyun gives back just as good. “Fish pee in the ocean!” 

 

Baekhyun pushes wet hair out of his eyes as he shrugs. Drops fall from the sharp line of Chanyeol’s jaw in a mesmerizing cadence. “We’re already swimming in their pee anyway.”

 

Chanyeol pulls a face and shivers dramatically, a smile threatening at the corners of his mouth when Baekhyun chuckles. “So you’ve never done something like this before?”

 

“Nope. You really do know how to make any trip memorable.”

 

“I’m a memorable host,” Chanyeol boasts in jest. Baekhyun splashes water at him and Chanyeol doesn’t lose his grin, even as the water drips from his chin. Baekhyun stares at the droplets descending over his neck, some pooling at his collarbones, others venturing down the broad expanse of his chest. The amber sunlight has tinged Chanyeol’s skin a striking copper, glimmering dimly under the dying sun. 

 

A skip in his heartbeat accompanies an observation; whether on land or sea, Chanyeol’s beauty is unrivaled.

 

Chanyeol floats over, so close that Baekhyun can see his damp lashes stuck together. Wet curls plastered over his forehead, droplets pooled in his cupid’s bow. In a rare moment of boldness, Baekhyun reaches out and wipes them away with his thumb, then sucks his thumb into his mouth. Chanyeol has gone completely still, lashes flapping over his cheekbones, wired by confusion. His thoughts are restless, Baekhyun can tell, that familiar curiosity smoldering in his gaze as it flits over his expression. Then the tiniest of smiles breaches Chanyeol’s countenance, as though something has revealed itself over Baekhyun’s features. Inexplicably, Baekhyun is flooded by relief, the feeling akin to holding one’s breath without knowing what for.

 

“You taste salty,” Baekhyun says dumbly. A beat passes, the gentle sound of the waves hitting the shore as background. Then Chanyeol breaks into a wheezing laugh, the crinkles around his eyes deepening. 

 

“Baekhyun,” Chanyeol prompts, in a voice unlike his own, “what if I kissed you right now?”

 

“Uh.” Baekhyun gulps. “I’d says… yes?”

 

Chanyeol chuckles once more and inches closer to Baekhyun until their noses are bumping, their breaths mingling as one. It’s quick, barely a grind of lips, then Chanyeol is gone, leaving behind a gossamer tickle on his mouth that Baekhyun licks over with his tongue. Still salty.

 

“Should we go?” Chanyeol asks. “I think it’s going to rain.”

 

“What?” Baekhyun looks upward, where a few clouds gather on a lilac sky. “No, it’s not.”

 

But Chanyeol doesn’t stop to hear this; he swims back to shore, long limps propelling him forward fast and leaving Baekhyun in his dust. 

  
  
  
  


Fortunately, the rain catches them right outside the guesthouse. Chanyeol brags about being right and Baekhyun slaps him with the damp towel he had used to dry off his hair. 

 

“No lights,” Chanyeol announces, turning on and off the switch on the wall. “I’m going to look for the candles. Guess you’re not writing tonight.”

 

Chanyeol’s grin doesn’t show any signs of misery about their current situation. In fact, he looks pleased as he goes about searching for candles in the kitchen, then lighting them on different glasses and bowls. Baekhyun follows dejectedly, unsure of how to act around Chanyeol after that kiss at the beach. Chanyeol seems unbothered, so Baekhyun tries to forget about it, and label it as just a prank between friends.

 

Once Baekhyun has changed into pajamas, he joins Chanyeol in the living room with some ramyun he’d put together in the dim kitchen. All the unspoken things sit at the table as a third guest, since their spontaneous beach trip goes noticeably unmentioned when they chat over the food. Tension stretches thin around them in a taut coil that threatens to snap loose at the slightest of motions.

 

The electricity is out for the rest of the night. Baekhyun has to make do with a candle when he decides to get a cup of tea at midnight. 

 

By now, Baekhyun is attuned to the creaky whims of the old guesthouse. He knows where to step to avoid a diabolical shriek, how the wood whines at ungodly hours, and how, on windy nights, the branches beating against the stone walls make a terrifying wailing that wakes him from slumber. 

 

All of that considered, he’s sure as hell the moans coming from Chanyeol’s room are not part of the house’s repertoire. 

 

Baekhyun freezes in the middle of the hall, his mind conjuring a thousand scenarios: Chanyeol stubbed his toe against the bed, and now he’s lying on the cold floor crying out in pain—

 

Another moan interrupts his thoughts, so much louder and needier. Baekhyun is a broken man. He could return to his room and pretend nothing happened, head to the kitchen as he planned and ruin Chanyeol’s mood, or…

 

The third option is the wildest one. Baekhyun walks with quiet steps to Chanyeol’s room and opens the door stealthily. Chanyeol is naked, legs bent and open, stroking his dick and fingering himself at the same time. Baekhyun’s brain short-circuits. All he can do is gawk at the sight, zeroing on the two fingers pushing desperately in and out of Chanyeol’s entrance.

 

Chanyeol opens his eyes just a bit and catches him at the door. There’s a millisecond where Baekhyun can see a flash of dread there, so he takes a step back, ready to run to his room, pack his bags and go back to Seoul, hide away forever for being a creep, when Chanyeol is rolling his head back onto the bed, moaning just as loud and wanton as he did before Baekhyun walked in. The hand on his dick tightens under the crown while the one inside of him fastens its pace, chasing for release.

 

“Are you just going to stand there,” Chanyeol pants, “or are you going to do something?”

 

The moment is so surreal. Baekhyun’s spent countless hours fantasizing about this, spent many a night jerking off to the image of a naked Chanyeol. 

 

“Baekhyun?”

 

Baekhyun rushes to the bed, settles in between Chanyeol’s legs, and bends over him to kiss him properly. Chanyeol arches off the mattress to meet him halfway, leaving his dick unattended to drag Baekhyun down by the neck for a sloppy, heated kiss. As he curves a leg over Baekhyun’s ass, his dick rubs over his pant leg, and Chanyeol groans, yanking at Baekhyun’s shirt in a desperate urge to bring him closer.

 

With their bodies flushed together, he can feel Chanyeol’s arm moving zealously between his thighs and he pulls back from the kiss to sit on his hunches and marvel at the sight of Chanyeol’s slick fingers inside him.

 

Baekhyun marvels at the gorgeous body splayed before him. Chanyeol’s legs are spread on both sides of him, his thighs full and strong, milky smooth skin that Baekhyun longs to mark. So he takes his time appreciating them, kissing along the inside of his thighs, the underside of his knees, sucking, biting, licking, until Chanyeol is shivering above him, small pleads rolling off his tongue deliciously.

 

“Do you do this every time the power goes out and there’s an unwitting guest in the room next door?”

 

It pulls a breathless chuckle out of Chanyeol. “Just when said guests can’t take an obvious hint.”

 

A thick dollop of precum adorns Chanyeol’s defined abs, where his dick sits heavily, tip red and glossy, looking as pretty as its owner. Baekhyun has seen his fair share of dicks and he can say Chanyeol’s is one of his favorites: a bit curved at the tip, thick, long and veiny. It’s a beautiful, perfect dick, straight out of his horniest fantasies. 

 

“Like what you see?” Chanyeol jokes, voice trembling. Baekhyun begins stroking, two careful pumps, and Chanyeol groans, eyes shutting instantly. 

 

“I very much like what I see,” Baekhyun murmurs, relishing the waves of pleasure playing on Chanyeol’s features. This is one of his favorite parts of giving head, when he can be in control and witness how much he affects people. 

 

Chanyeol’s laugh turns to a garbled moan as Baekhyun dips to take his dick into his mouth. Already he loves the feel of Chanyeol on his tongue, tangy and musty and  _ huge _ . Baekhyun takes as much as he can of him and works with his fingers what he can’t get in.

 

Baekhyun traces his fingertips over Chanyeol’s rim and directs an inquisitive look at him. Asking for permission. As soon as an affirmative is heaved out, Baekhyun slips a finger inside, then another when the first slides in easily. Chanyeol begins canting his hips, seeking, begging for more, his eyes shut and mouth open, where wonderful sounds spill out. 

 

Chanyeol is needy, so needy, and Baekhyun loves it. Deep groans rumble through Chanyeol, his lips bitten raw by his teeth. It’s all so wonderful, Baekhyun almost wants to make Chanyeol come just with his fingers.

 

Chanyeol tangles his fingers in Baekhyun’s hair and pulls at the strands in warning. “Want you,” he whispers. “Want you inside me.”

 

Excitement tugs at Baekhyun’s gut. “Anything you want, host.” Baekhyun laps at the tip of his dick one last time and leans back to pull his shirt and pants off completely. 

 

Baekhyun wants to see Chanyeol unravel in other ways, how much he can fall apart, when he slides on his condom, wrapping one of Chanyeol’s legs around his waist before he presses in, careful at first, then all at once.

 

Chanyeol’s eyes are closed, his chest rising and falling with labored breaths. Baekhyun waits, watching his face for any sign of discomfort—he doesn’t want to hurt Chanyeol, this is supposed to be fun for both. 

 

“Give me a second,” Chanyeol says. “You’re bigger than I thought.” 

 

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

 

Chanyeol’s shoulders tremble in a silent laugh. The heel of his right foot digs insistently into Baekhyun’s lower back and Baekhyun feels kind of like a horse. He’s pinned down with an impatient glare, Chanyeol’s mouth curved lopsidedly, in that way that makes Baekhyun’s insides hot.

 

“Just shut up and move,” Chanyeol taunts. “Please.”

 

“You cheeky bastard,” Baekhyun murmurs. With one hand under Chanyeol’s knee, he thrusts harder, faster, so much so that the headboard slams against the wall. Chanyeol rolls his head back, moaning loudly now, while Baekhyun kisses his face, his neck, whispering praises of how good he feels, how tight and warm he is.

 

It’s short, shorter than Baekhyun would like. But it’s been a while for them both, so when he senses Chanyeol is close, whimpering, tightening around Baekhyun, he leans back, grabs Chanyeol by his hips and thrusts even faster than before. Chanyeol’s back arches off the bed, his ribs visible along his skin. The view is so breathtaking, Baekhyun nearly trips in his quickening pace. 

 

Chanyeol keeps him up to speed, clawing at the sheets and Baekhyun’s ass in turn. “Harder! I’m so—Baekhyun—”

 

It takes three more thrusts for Baekhyun to come into the condom. Chanyeol follows suit, releasing a long, rough whine that peters out into a groan. Baekhyun collapses on top of Chanyeol, who caresses the ridges of his spine with quivering fingers.

 

“That was so good,” Chanyeol whispers into his ear. A kiss sneaks onto his temple. “Thank you.”

 

 

 


	2. i think we're alone now

Baekhyun has his first cup of coffee in weeks that morning. Coffee has never been his favorite drink; it’s bitter, tangy to his sweet-toothed taste. But there are times when he’s so strung out that he needs a caffeine boost to keep working, like when he’s deep into a writing session or close to a deadline. 

 

This time, the reason for his nerves is what happened the previous night. Baekhyun doesn’t know how to go about it: he’d made up his mind to take Chanyeol breakfast in bed before dissuading himself altogether around three times in the last hour. 

 

Exactly why Baekhyun is jittery is unknown to him. It may be because he’d gotten to know Chanyeol before he got in bed with him, and even if that’s what he wanted in the first place, he’s not sure how Chanyeol will go about this… especially since they share a living space. Or maybe Chanyeol was just lonely and  _ horny,  _ a terrible combination _ , _ and Baekhyun was at the right place and moment… The man had said  _ thank you  _ after all.

 

A bit of coffee sloshes onto the floor when he whips around to see a sleepy Chanyeol entering the kitchen. 

 

The man is wearing only his boxers, to Baekhyun’s endless chagrin, but it doesn’t make him any less adorable in his sleepiness. He yawns into his palm, which covers his face almost entirely, and his hair sticks up comically in all directions. When he notices Baekhyun standing against the counter, he smiles lazily, puffy cheeks scrunching sleep-crusted eyes. Baekhyun shouldn’t be attracted to such a sight, not when he’d seen Chanyeol minutes ago with drool around the corners of his mouth, but the butterflies flapping along his ribs tell a different story.

 

“You’re drinking coffee?” Chanyeol blinks owlishly at him. “Thought you hated it.”

 

“I do,” Baekhyun says, voice raspy with disuse. “But I felt like having some right now. I didn’t sleep very well. A giant was trying to crush me under his weight, you see.”

 

Turns out Chanyeol is quite the cuddler. As soon as they’d slipped under the covers, ready to sleep, he’d clung to Baekhyun like an abalone, arms wrapped around Baekhyun like a vice. Baekhyun can’t say he minds, he’s just as clingy, really, but Chanyeol doesn’t need to know that. 

 

“Sorry about that,” Chanyeol laughs quietly. In the light from the kitchen window, Baekhyun can clearly see the blush on Chanyeol’s neck. Despite that, he looks anything but apologetic. “I love cuddling.”

 

“I know,” Baekhyun teases, smiling into his mug. He takes a sip of coffee to distract himself, only to pull a face right after at the taste. Chanyeol laughs as he waddles over to take the mug from him. Baekhyun just stares at him helplessly, watching the muscle on his arms shift as he flexes. He’s so fucking attractive, it should be downright illegal. “Hey, I was drinking that! You’re stealing my coffee now?”

 

“I paid for this coffee,” Chanyeol bounces, taking a swig of the beverage. Baekhyun watches mesmerized as his throat works, the way his adam’s apple moves under his skin. When he puts the mug down, he smirks at the look on Baekhyun’s face. “It’s good.”

 

“I made it myself,” Baekhyun replies, feebly. “Chanyeol, about last night…”

 

“What about it?” Chanyeol asks lowly. There’s barely a breadth of space left between them, so close that Baekhyun can see the five o’clock shadow dusting his jaw. That curious look is back, shifting unsurely over his features to lock itself onto his mouth, which sparks a sort of fascination that overrides any other emotion.

 

None of that self-doubt remains when he leans down to kiss Baekhyun, tentative at first, a timid glide that becomes bolder when Baekhyun gladly opens his mouth to let their tongues mingle. 

 

Until then, Baekhyun hadn’t realized how desperate he’d been to taste Chanyeol again after last night. Chanyeol kisses with the same kind of curious, earnest energy that he puts into everything else, confident one second, cautious the next. It’s all so wonderful to Baekhyun, his hands travel on their own upwards the swell of his pectorals to the sinewy skin of his neck, his thumb fitting perfectly on the dip of his jaw. 

 

When they separate for breath, Baekhyun has forgotten what he’d meant to ask. There is just relief, that this, whatever it is, wasn’t just a one-night stand. That it won’t stand between their friendship and that Baekhyun won’t have to worry much during his stay. And yet, his anxiety isn’t entirely gone, not even when Chanyeol plays with the elastic band of his boxers with teasing thumbs. 

 

Just as fast as Chanyeol had approached, he shuffles aside to open a cupboard. Baekhyun is about to voice his confusion when he notes the tiniest of smirks playing upon Chanyeol’s lips. Cheeky bastard.

 

“Are you going to write today?” Chanyeol inquires, pulling out a mug. “I’m going to head out to the village so you can have the house to yourself today.”

 

“Probably,” Baekhyun replies, gathering his composure. “Since there won’t be any type of distraction around…”

 

“Do I distract you that much?” Chanyeol’s grin is smug while he pours coffee into his mug. The way he flexes his arm must be intentional. “I don’t mean to. I swear.”

 

“You wish.” Baekhyun rolls his eyes. It only makes Chanyeol’s smile widen. “Anyways, didn’t you have to go out? Hope your flat ass doesn’t hurt when you sit in your car.”

 

Chanyeol gapes, mug in mid-air. “You loved my ass though!”

 

“Yeah, but my mine is better,” Baekhyun hollers over his shoulder. As he walks out, he puts a little sway to his hips, a small treat for Chanyeol staring after him.

  
  
  
  


The call connects on the second ring and Minseok’s high-pitched voice comes through. 

 

“Hey, I thought you were dead! Sunyoung was telling me to send the cops down there just in case!” 

 

“Ha ha,” Baekhyun laughs flatly. “I’ve been busy, okay? And I told you the reception here is crappy.”

 

“Is it that or you want to stay away?” Minseok teases. Baekhyun can imagine his friend’s gummy smile. “Either way it’s fine, you’re allowed to get a vacation out of this.”

 

“Well, it’s been relaxing,” Baekhyun comments. “But I’ve been writing non-stop, so don’t worry about that.”

 

“It’s not really the book I worry about,” Minseok says. “But if the book isn’t going well, then we’ll be both in big trouble.”

 

Baekhyun chuckles. “Are you ready to hear what it is about?”

 

“Mmm, do you have a solid story now? Let’s hear it then.”

 

“Okay, ready?” Baekhyun asks. Minseok giggles on the other side. “Okay, here it goes… It’s about a girl who picks strawberries for a living. She’s been running her whole life and she thinks she’s finally found stability in this little forsaken town, when one night, she dreams of a man.” 

 

“Alright,” Minseok says slowly. Baekhyun imagines him craning forward, one brow arched in interest.

 

“At first, she thinks the dreams are real,” Baekhyun goes on, “but as the nights pass, and she keeps having the same dream, she not only realizes it’s a dream, but also that the man is her high school sweetheart, whom she had left behind more than a decade ago.”

 

“Sounds romantic,” Minseok comments. “What’s the catch?”

 

_ Ah _ , Baekhyun thinks. The sad twist. “When she wants to know how he is in present day, she finds out he’s been in a coma for a while and that his family is considering letting him go, because the doctors think he’s never going to wake up.”

 

“Oh god,” Minseok gasps. Baekhyun grins, triumphant. “That’s sad. Does she save him?”

 

“Well, I don’t know yet,” Baekhyun says. “But probably not.”

 

“Ah, because your books are always terribly sad,” Minseok jibes. “I bet he dies right after she confesses or something equally tragic. Am I wrong?”

 

Minseok’s tone isn’t sardonic and Baekhyun doesn’t take offense at the jokes. He’s the one who had seen potential in Baekhyun’s works, after all the rejection letters. 

 

“Of course,” Baekhyun says. “Now that you said it, that sounds very predictable. I hate it. I’m going to delete everything and start from scratch.”

 

Minseok’s gasp is louder this time—he’s well experienced in the way artists’ moods swing like the night changes to day. Baekhyun has to bite his lip not to let out a laugh. 

 

“If you do that, I’ll come down there personally to whip your ass.”

 

“A spanking from you sounds tempting,” Baekhyun jokes. “Didn’t know you were so kinky.”

 

“Shut up, Byun,” Minseok bites back. Baekhyun laughs out loud. “You know how my boss has been on my back because of your book. He wants to know every bit of what it’s going to be about.”

 

“Well,” Baekhyun says. “Tell him to wait in line like everyone else.”

 

“You’re such a headache.” Minseok’s tone is fonder than the words would belie. “I’ll tell him exactly that and I’ll see how you deal with him when you come back. So,” Baekhyun can hear the intent in his friend’s voice, “she’s a country girl, huh. What inspired that?”

 

Baekhyun has told Minseok teeny bits about Chanyeol, aware that the editor will make a big deal if he shares too much. Knowing him, he supposes Minseok has already taken a good guess to his growing attraction to Chanyeol without the need of details. Minseok knows Baekhyun’s types are the timid, cute guys, soft on the inside but strong enough to manhandle him in bed.

 

“Maybe Chanyeol had something to do with it,” Baekhyun admits, “but it’s not like what you’re implying.”

 

“If it helps you move on from Jongdae,” Minseok says, matter-of-factly, “then who cares what it’s really like.”

 

The mention of Jongdae doesn’t carry the twinge it once did. Baekhyun knows it’s far from a taunt, because Minseok just wants the best for him 

 

“By the way,” Minseok says, clearly changing gears, “a friend’s been asking me about having you on his radio station. Have you ever considered DJing?” 

 

“Like a radio show host?”

 

“Yeah, you love talking,” Minseok says. “I don’t think that’ll be a problem for you. You’ll be able to jabber on for hours and people will be unable to stop you. It’s perfect for you.”

 

“I’ll consider it,” Baekhyun hums pensively. “I don’t know when I’ll be done with the book.” 

 

“I hope it’s soon,” Minseok says. “Sunyoung misses you lots.”

 

Baekhyun knows Minseok too well to know he also means himself. “Tell her I miss her, too. If I were straight, I’d marry her in an instant.”

 

“I changed my mind,” Minseok jokes. “You can stay where you are.”

 

They talk over the phone for another twenty minutes. Minseok has to go pick Sunyoung up for a lunch date, so he says goodbye, but not before extracting a promise from Baekhyun to call soon. 

 

Baekhyun contemplates Minseok’s offer for the radio show during his walk back to the guesthouse. It’s been almost two months since he arrived in Yangsu, but he hasn’t put much thought to his eventual departure. Even if Minseok hadn’t pressured him, it sounds so immediate. But he doesn’t want to think about it for now. There’s still a while to go until then.

  
  
  
  


Chanyeol shows up at the guesthouse with a visitor around dinnertime. Baekhyun is beckoned by the noise downstairs and he finds a young man sitting at the table, pale and lanky, long legs crossed daintily, his pinched expression bearing an uncanny resemblance to Grumpy Cat. When he sees Baekhyun, his frown instantly molds into a warm grin, his eyes cut into friendly crescents.

 

“Hello, Baekhyun-ssi.” The man offers Baekhyun his hand across the table. “I’m Sehun.”

 

“Oh, I know who you are!” Baekhyun grins, shaking the man’s hand. “Chanyeol has told me so much about you, it feels like I know you personally.”

 

“Don’t believe anything he says,” Sehun whispers, cupping his mouth. Chanyeol shakes his head wearily at Baekhyun. 

 

Chanyeol gathers a mound of sliced carrots over a cutting board and drops them into a sizzling pan. “I was going to call you when the food was ready. Were we making too much noise?”

 

Two pots are burbling to low heat on the stove and the kitchen smells deliciously. Baekhyun’s empty stomach growls in approval. 

 

“A little.” Baekhyun flattens his mouth playfully and Sehun wheezes. “But now that I’m here I guess I’ll stay.”

 

Baekhyun sits at the table across from Sehun. Sehun takes the opportunity to tell Baekhyun all about the annoying costumer who comes in every Thursday just to leave a complaint about Sehun each time and he doesn’t even leave a tip, the asshole.

 

When Baekhyun leaves the table to help Chanyeol with the plates, the back of their hands brush. Baekhyun doesn’t know whether it was intentional, but there’s not a single speck of emotion he can read on Chanyeol. 

 

Dinner consists of pasta and cheese bread. Chanyeol wanted to impress apparently. Baekhyun catches him staring effusively when he takes his first bite of the food, and Baekhyun isn’t one to conceal his emotions, so the pleasure must have read plainly on his face.

 

“It’s delicious,” Baekhyun says, staring directly at Chanyeol. “Thank you for the food, chef.”

 

Chanyeol dips his head, grinning into his plate. Baekhyun spies the dark color on the tips of his ears and he chuckles to himself. “It’s nothing. I was just feeling inspired.”

 

“Why that is?” Sehun asks, mouth full. 

 

“I don’t know.” Chanyeol shrugs, taking a sip of his beer. “Just felt like cooking something nice.”

 

Baekhyun doesn’t miss the smile Chanyeol sends his way, nor the furtive glance charged with a little too much meaning. Feeling bold, Baekhyun places a hand on Chanyeol’s thigh when Sehun starts to go on another rant about his professors. Thankfully, if Sehun notices the way Baekhyun blushes he does not ask. 

 

They move to the living room, where Sehun and Baekhyun sit on the couch and Chanyeol plays his guitar softly in the armchair. Sehun tries to cuddle Baekhyun by putting his head on his shoulder, and Baekhyun lets him, plays with his strands as Sehun tells them a story about his classes. At some point, Baekhyun notices Chanyeol staring intently at Sehun’s hand on Baekhyun’s knee and he has to duck to hide a smile.

 

Since it’s late, Sehun decides to stay over in one of the unoccupied rooms. Sehun borrows one of Chanyeol’s old pants and shirts, joking about how holey they are around the knees— _ you’re always tripping over your feet, hyung _ —and bidding Baekhyun goodnight at the hallway. Baekhyun had wanted to kiss Chanyeol tonight, maybe even follow him to his room, but Sehun has kept Chanyeol in his room for the past hour, and Baekhyun doesn’t think it’d be feasible to sneak into his bedroom in the middle of the night without being detected.

 

Baekhyun is doing his nighttime routine in the bathroom when Chanyeol barges in without knocking. Baekhyun nearly drops his brush and shoots Chanyeol a glare that only makes the other man laugh. 

 

“Sorry, did I scare you?” Chanyeol closes the door behind himself. “I just wanted to be alone with you for a bit.”

 

“Why?” Baekhyun ignores the knot in his stomach in favor of feigning indifference. “Got something to tell me?”

 

“Not really,” Chanyeol says. Baekhyun spies the hint of a smile in the mirror. “Just that you look cute in your pajamas.”

 

Baekhyun’s pajamas are an old SNU shirt and sweats that swallow his feet. Chanyeol’s tone is nothing but earnest, simple, hiding nothing. Though his shoulders are tense, his thick fingers fiddle with the hem of his shirt, his smile tight as a guitar string. Not for the first time, Baekhyun wonders if Chanyeol is just as uncertain about the whole situation, unsure of how to proceed when this could alter the already fragile structure of their relationship. 

 

Although Baekhyun has never been the type to overthink his dating life—he’s the type to dive headfirst into the sheets of the beautiful people he meets frequently and deal with the consequences later. Not a wise thing to do at twenty-eight, he’ll be the first to admit, but it’s worked for him over the years.

 

Jongdae was the first of his conquests Baekhyun ever caught feelings for. In hindsight, it might’ve been the incredible sex that opened the door for them, or just that Jongdae had a killer smile that made Baekhyun a little weak in the knees. Whatever it was, Baekhyun just kept coming back for more, always ready and available whenever Jongdae was down for some. Definitely not Baekhyun’s proudest moments.

 

This particular case is different because Baekhyun took the time to get to know Chanyeol before anything happened. Chanyeol  _ is _ different. He cares about Baekhyun, likes to spend time with him without the promise of sex tying them together, unlike most of Baekhyun’s past lovers. 

 

_ What the hell _ , Baekhyun thinks. From then on, he decides to halt any more intrusive thoughts about their… thing. There’s so much that is unresolved between them, yes, but Baekhyun chooses to focus on the present. Chanyeol is here. Chanyeol’s gnawing on his plush lip, bowed legs on display beneath his shorts, a hopeful glimmer in his eyes that Baekhyun finds adorable. Chanyeol is cute, inviting, and very, very kissable. 

 

It’s impossible for Baekhyun not to dissolve under Chanyeol’s gaze, not when he regards Baekhyun like he’s the only person on earth, and it’s with that unguarded fascination that he follows Baekhyun breaching the distance in a single stride.

 

“Your pajamas are cute, too.” Baekhyun slides a palm up Chanyeol’s torso, reveling in the firm shape of his pectorals. “Though I like you more without them.”

 

“I knew you’d say that.” Chanyeol’s laugh is breathy, peppermint cool. “You need some work with your pick-up lines.”

 

“Oh, shut up,” Baekhyun groans, yanking Chanyeol down by the neck of his shirt. Chanyeol laughs into Baekhyun’s mouth, his hands on either side of his hips—which, Baekhyun is starting to suspect, is Chanyeol’s favorite place to cling to him.

 

“Do you think we would make too much noise here?” Baekhyun pants into the kiss. “Is Sehun a light sleeper?”

 

Chanyeol wheezes amusedly, bumping his nose with Baekhyun’s. Baekhyun kisses the shape of his smile, and Chanyeol is about to say something, when they both jolt at a knock on the door. 

 

In record time, they jump away from each other, Baekhyun knocking his lower back against the washing bowl. The door opens. Sehun finds Baekhyun turning back to the mirror and Chanyeol successfully combing his hair with fidgety fingers.

 

“What are you two doing here?” Sehun squints warily at his friends in turn. 

 

“Chanyeol really had to use the bathroom,” Baekhyun says, “but I was already in here.” 

 

“Okay.” Sehun nods, crescent eyes still full of suspicion. “Do you still have to use it, hyung? ‘Cause I’m going to brush my teeth.”

 

“I’ll leave then,” Baekhyun announces, sliding past Chanyeol and Sehun. “Goodnight, Sehunnie.”

 

“Night, hyung,” Sehun says. Chanyeol stares after him without a word.

  
  
  


Baekhyun’s inspiration is invigorated. There’s no denying that Chanyeol has had something (or a lot) to do with it. 

 

From morning to afternoon, Baekhyun writes, writes, writes. His character has been meeting with her first love for weeks and she’s already figured out his identity as her old high school boyfriend. She knows it’s a dream, even though the dreams are tangible and solid, every color and sound, even scent, too vivid to be anything other than real. When she wakes up, there’s the lingering presence of her lover and a longing so deep it aches almost physically.

 

Baekhyun isn’t familiar with that kind of yearning. Back when Jongdae began ghosting him, the sense of resignation had been stronger than the desire to have him back. Deep down inside, Baekhyun had known Jongdae would leave him eventually—it had happened so many times before, why would this be any different?  

 

Which is why he has trouble with this one scene. It’s close to sundown when Baekhyun surrenders; he isn’t going to get that scene down tonight, so he leaves his laptop for the first time in hours, stretches his aching muscles, and heads downstairs to quiet down his roaring stomach. Chanyeol left food for him in the fridge and a note that says he’s going to be helping at Sehun’s restaurant today. 

 

They hadn’t seen each other since in the bathroom the previous night. It would be a lie if Baekhyun said he hadn’t thought about Chanyeol all day, especially in those moments when his character’s heart thuds at each word her dream lover uttered. 

 

Baekhyun had decided not to think about whether or not this was a good idea. It’s just a good fuck while he is there, something to take the edge off while he works on his book. But he needs to make sure Chanyeol is on the same page as him.

 

The rattling of the main door being opened and closed interrupts his thoughts. Clunky footsteps approach the kitchen and then Chanyeol appears in the doorway, a wide smile unfolding when he sees Baekhyun at the table. Lately, Baekhyun has caught himself waiting for that smile, the way it unravels on Chanyeol’s face on automatic, like a light being switched on, and it leaves Baekhyun with the same tremor in his chest each time.

 

“Is it good?” Chanyeol takes off his jacket and hangs it over the back of a chair. “I put some pepper in it—I hope it’s not too spicy.”

 

Baekhyun shakes his head, cheeks puffed out with food. Chanyeol chuckles soundlessly. “It’s delicious, Chanyeol.”

 

Chanyeol had baked cauliflower with cheese and smashed potatoes. It’s the best thing Baekhyun has tried in years—perhaps ever. Chanyeol smiles proudly, as he should be, the crinkles around his eyes prominent.  _ Cute, cute, cute. _

 

“Hey, come here,” Baekhyun whispers, putting his chopsticks down. Chanyeol seems curious for half a second, when he looks at Baekhyun. Baekhyun cranes forward and Chanyeol meets him halfway, pressing his lips to Baekhyun’s gently, though his hand seeks out Baekhyun’s thigh under the table. 

 

But this isn’t enough for Baekhyun. He needs to be so much closer. “Wait—” he says, pulling back suddenly. Chanyeol looks astonished for all of a second until Baekhyun pushes his chair back to sit on his lap, Chanyeol quickly holding onto his hips. 

 

Chanyeol opens for Baekhyun readily, procuring the most delightful of noises as they swirl tongues and explore each other’s bodies without restraint. Baekhyun has never been patient, and it seems Chanyeol isn’t either—the man sneaks his hands under Baekhyun’s shirt, cold from the evening chill, and it sparks a shiver that runs through Baekhyun. Chanyeol’s fingers leave a cold trail over his stomach, earning a gasp from Baekhyun as they move upwards. Baekhyun feels more than sees Chanyeol’s infuriating smirk against his mouth and he bites on his lower lip, hard, in retaliation. Chanyeol’s breath hitches audibly, and the sound only turns Baekhyun on even more, his hips rocking slowly into Chanyeol’s lap. 

 

Chanyeol tightens his grip on Baekhyun’s thighs as he sucks on a patch of skin on his throat. It stirs something in his gut, the groan that he rips out of Chanyeol with a purposeful roll of his hips. Deep, rough, wanton. But Chanyeol doesn’t stay idle for long; he guides Baekhyun with fingers on his jaw to capture his mouth, sucking at his lips like he’s been deprived for too long.

 

“Baekhyun, I’d really like to keep doing this,” Chanyeol pants, “but I don’t want to come in my kitchen.”

 

“Fuck,” Baekhyun titters. “Your room or mine?”

  
  
  
  


Chanyeol is eager in everything he does, Baekhyun finds out that night. Eager to please, eager to taste, eager to take. When he’s above Baekhyun, he rubs the head of his dick along his rim, bottom lip trapped under his teeth, just to tease himself. When he sinks down, it’s with more force than required—no restraint or docility, unusual for Chanyeol—and Baekhyun has to bury his nails into the wiry flesh of his thighs so as to not moan aloud. 

 

With a palm firmly set on his abdomen, Chanyeol moves slowly at first, a careful pace of grinding, rocking, back and forth, side to side. Then he gains traction, bouncing up and down, only the head of Baekhyun’s dick snug inside, and slamming back down with as much force. All Baekhyun can do is watch, touch, trace reverent hands over Chanyeol’s slim waist, the ridges of his ribs, the dusty pink of his nipples, all the while dripping with praises of how good he is being, how hot he looks.

 

Baekhyun confirms his earlier suspicions that Chanyeol thrives on praise. A blush extends from his face to his neck, and it deepens with all the dirty words that fall unbidden from Baekhyun’s lips. It’s hard for Baekhyun not to worship Chanyeol, with the way he arches his back, head thrown back, his dick smacking against his abdomen and his thighs trembling whenever he finds an angle that hits just right. It’s such an ethereal sight, Baekhyun would pray if he were a religious man.

 

Not long after, Chanyeol lies on top of him, spent and heaving, his head fit between his shoulder and neck. Baekhyun slides his hands over his sweat-slick back down to his buttocks, where he spreads them as he begins thrusting upwards. Chanyeol groans, muffled against Baekhyun’s skin, and Baekhyun feels the shivers that take over his body as though they were his own. 

 

It takes a few more thrusts for Baekhyun to come. Chanyeol hasn’t come yet, so Baekhyun strokes him, putting special emphasis on the slit with a thumb. Chanyeol shivers, his eyes scrunched shut and arms holding him precariously on the bedframe—and he shouldn’t look so attractive like this.

 

“Scoot over a little,” Baekhyun murmurs. With tired legs, Chanyeol shuffles over Baekhyun’s torso until his dick is in line with Baekhyun’s mouth. Baekhyun sucks him off and it doesn’t take Chanyeol long before he’s coming down Baekhyun’s throat, Baekhyun readily swallowing his load.

 

“Fuck,” Chanyeol pants, falling on the bed beside Baekhyun, “you’re incredible.”

 

“Thanks,” Baekhyun says, grin smarmy, “I get that a lot.”

 

Chanyeol’s expression pinches. “Well, I got what I wanted, you can leave now.”

 

Baekhyun’s heart nearly drops out of his ass in the next beat. Then Chanyeol bursts out laughing, hits Baekhyun’s chest with the back of his hand in jesting and Baekhyun huffs out a sigh that ends in a titter. 

 

“Shut up I almost believed that.” He waits until Chanyeol’s laughter has petered out to ask. “So this is going to be a regular thing?”

 

For a moment, all Chanyeol does is peer at him. Unreadable. In a casual voice, he says, “If you want to.”

 

Baekhyun grins, scooting close so their arms are aligned. Damp and cool. “I swallowed your come, Chanyeol. You think I’d do that if I wasn’t up for it?”

 

“Oh my god,” Chanyeol laughs, embarrassed. Even in the dark Baekhyun can see the deep flush over the apple of his cheeks and the pearly shine of his teeth. A rebellious moth flaps its flimsy wings in Baekhyun’s chest. “Don’t just say stuff like that out of nowhere.”

 

“But what I mean is,” Baekhyun says, “I’d like to do this again.”

 

“Right now?”

 

“I meant in the near future.” Baekhyun grins cheekily as he throws a leg over Chanyeol. “But I won’t say no to that!”

  
  
  
  


Spring means strawberries finally being back in season and the farm coming back to business. Yangsu flourishes in late March, freshly woken from winter slumber; the trees around the guesthouse are full again, their leaves radiant and robust, and the shrubs are sprinkled with a million bright wildflowers. It means Chanyeol in tank tops and shorts, sometimes one or the other. It drives Baekhyun up the wall, though lately he prefers Chanyeol naked over his sheets.

 

It means Baekhyun dividing his time between writing, strawberry picking, and Chanyeol. Baekhyun has outlined every important scene for his draft and his schedule has been working so far, so he has time to meet Seulgi some days in the afternoon and spend his nights with Chanyeol. The nights are the best: it means Chanyeol, under him, on top of him, riding, kissing,  _ keening _ .

 

What’s surprising—and relieving—to Baekhyun is that this new development in their relationship doesn’t disturb their established routine. They still read together in the living room, Chanyeol plays the guitar and Baekhyun writes. What’s different now are the kisses. Chanyeol kisses him good morning, despite the bad breath, kisses him in the midst of cooking, kisses him while they’re doing the dishes. It’s always sweet, gentle, sometimes tinged with desire—all the things he’s begun to associate with Chanyeol.

 

Chanyeol leaves him to his writing in the day, but at night, he’s there to cook Baekhyun a meal, to warm his bed. It’s enjoyable. Convenient. One of the best arrangements Baekhyun has had so far.

  
  
  
  


A day in mid-March, the writing is slow. It comes in chunks, sometimes in staccato spurts that never prosper. Baekhyun hates everything as soon as he types it and deletes all traces of his failure by hitting the backspace key angrily.

 

It’s like Chanyeol can sense his frustration, because in the afternoon, he asks, “How is the writing going?”

 

There’s a little smirk on his lips that’s a little too knowing for Baekhyun’s liking. Baekhyun sends a scowl his way and goes back to sulking face down on the couch. He hears a distinctive little wheeze and the turning of a page. Chanyeol has posted himself on the floor next to the coffee table, his back to the armchair and a paperback in his hands.  _ The Great Gatsby, _ this time. There are quite a few pages dog-eared; Baekhyun guesses he’s rereading his favorite parts after having given up on another attempt to get through  _ Atonement,  _ which lies forgotten next to his socked feet _. _

 

“How’s your reading going?” Baekhyun asks, grinning. Chanyeol follows his gaze to the discarded book on the floor. 

 

Pink lips pull down with dejection. Chanyeol’s pouts are always adorable, but this one tugs particularly hard at Baekhyun: he’s wearing a ridiculous pair of dungarees, his patched-up glasses, and his curls are in disarray, for he has been switching between lying down and sitting up for the past hour. Sometimes sharing a house with Chanyeol is like living with an hyperenergetic golden retriever.

 

“It’s not going well,” Chanyeol laments, closing  _ The Great Gatsby _ . “I just can’t get through it. It’s not for me.”

 

“Fair enough,” Baekhyun says. “What if I read it to you? Maybe you’ll like it better.”

 

“Now that’s a nice change,” Chanyeol says, shuffling closer. “I really like your voice. You should consider recording audiobooks or something. I could listen to you talk for hours.”

 

Chanyeol expresses his thoughts and feelings with such simplicity, never beating around the bush. It catches Baekhyun off guard each time, like right now, because he can’t be that straightforward. Yet, Baekhyun doesn’t think Chanyeol means much of it; he’s the kind of person who tells people upfront that he likes them.  

 

“I like your voice, too.” Baekhyun sets his head on his folded arms. “I like how deep it is. Even if you’re a little loud.”

 

“Hey, you’re loud, too,” Chanyeol throws back. “We’d probably get a noise complaint every day if we had neighbors.”

 

Baekhyun’s gut stirs with want at the insinuation. Chanyeol’s gaze is dark, focused solely on Baekhyun, a hint of smugness in his smile as if he’d read his thoughts. 

 

“I like your voice when you moan my name,” Baekhyun says. It’s Chanyeol’s turn to blush. Chanyeol is so hot when he’s needy, but Baekhyun keeps that to himself, unless he wants to make a flustered mess of Chanyeol. 

 

“I won’t do that anymore,” Chanyeol states childishly, “now that you say it.”

 

Baekhyun pouts, watching Chanyeol inching closer. His eyes fall on his lips almost immediately, and by the way Chanyeol licks them, the attention is welcome. “I’ll try harder then,” Baekhyun promises, right before Chanyeol kisses him. 

 

Chanyeol has him off his clothes in record time. The dungarees are off in an instant, and Baekhyun moans gleefully when he discovers Chanyeol is wearing nothing underneath. 

 

Baekhyun is lying on his back, wearing only his jeans, as Chanyeol licks up his torso. When his tongue reaches his navel, Chanyeol takes his precious time leaving marks, nuzzling his stomach like a dog against his owner’s hand. Kissing up his abdomen and swirling his tongue into his belly button. 

 

Baekhyun squirms, chuckles, biting his lip as he looks down at the mess of curls below. “What are you doing?”

 

“Saying hi to your belly button.” Chanyeol’s smile is innocent and jovial. “It’s really cute.” Before he can get a response, he begins kissing down the trail of hair that leads down to Baekhyun’s jeans. “Just like your dick.”

 

“My dick isn’t cute,” Baekhyun laughs. Chanyeol pulls down his jeans expertly, squatting back to make space to get them off completely. One of Baekhyun’s legs ends up on his shoulder and the other is wrapped loosely around Chanyeol’s hips. 

 

“It is,” Chanyeol insists. Baekhyun’s breathing becomes labored as Chanyeol begins kissing down the inside of his thigh, biting on the flesh and licking it afterward. When he gets to his crotch, Chanyeol nuzzles it with his face, mouthing over its length through the fabric. “It’s very pretty and cute.”

 

It’s the first time someone has called his dick  _ cute _ , and Baekhyun is amused and endeared in equal amounts. He’s heard plenty of other compliments, but never this one, and Chanyeol looks dead serious when he says it, which makes it even more amusing. 

 

“Your dick is gorgeous,” Baekhyun says quietly. Chanyeol glances at him, smile stamping two dimples on each side of his cheeks. “So long, thick and delicious.”

 

“ _ Baekhyun _ ,” Chanyeol groans, hiding on Baekhyun’s stomach. “I can’t believe you just called my dick  _ delicious _ , not to mention gorgeous.”

 

“What?! It’s the truth,” Baekhyun laughs. Chanyeol guffaws, making Baekhyun tremble beneath him. “Thought we were being dick positive or some shit like that.”

 

“Dick positive,” Chanyeol wheezes, slapping the cushions. It’s the boisterous laugh that Baekhyun likes the most. “You’re so…”

 

“I’m just stating the truth,” Baekhyun asserts. “I’ve already told you how much I like your dick, haven’t I?”

 

“Is that all you like me for?” Chanyeol jokes, rubbing Baekhyun with the heel of his palm. Baekhyun’s eyes roll back, a quiet moan escaping his mouth. “My dick? I feel strangely objectified right now.”

 

That would be true, if Chanyeol wasn’t the wonderful person that he is. But Baekhyun isn’t in a state to convey something like that, so he says, “Just to prove to you how much I like your dick I’ve decided I want it inside me.”

 

Chanyeol looks up, wide-eyed. “Are you sure?”

 

Baekhyun nods, tickled at Chanyeol’s reaction. A knot of anticipation and nervousness forms in his stomach, because it’s so new, giving up control to Chanyeol. “Only if you promise to fuck me so hard I won’t be able to walk for a week.”

 

That sends Chanyeol laughing again. This time it’s subdued, wonder still playing on his features as he stares at Baekhyun. His stare is so tender, his smile soothing, and when he dips to stamp a kiss on Baekhyun, some of his trepidation thaws under a whispered promise to take care of him. 

 

Chanyeol watches him intently as he opens Baekhyun with gentle fingers, first two, then three. Thick, long fingers that Baekhyun thinks could make him come just like this. But he wants Chanyeol’s dick inside of him so bad, his dick is already licking over his abdomen, and Chanyeol, noticing, strokes a couple of times, just to take some of the edge off. It drives Baekhyun crazy. 

 

Chanyeol seems self-assured prepping Baekhyun, but Baekhyun notices the slight tremble of his hand before he kneads Baekhyun’s asscheek to hide it. Nothing in his movements indicates this nervousness: he dips his head between his legs to suck his dick, fingers probing inside, and Baekhyun shouts, clawing desperately at the cushions. 

 

“Chanyeol, if you don’t put your dick in me right this instant,” Baekhyun demands, in a high-pitched, embarrassing whine, “I’m going to go fucking insane.”

 

With another suck, Chanyeol lets go of his dick to groan. Baekhyun keens at the loss of his fingers, but he’s quickly distracted by Chanyeol on his knees, lubing his dick up with a fist. Chanyeol is mostly wiry, firm muscle, but there’s some pudgy mass on his stomach from all the food they’ve eaten lately that is totally adorable to Baekhyun. He’s spent many a time kissing it since he discovered it before dipping lower. 

 

All the breath is knocked out of Baekhyun once Chanyeol slips into him. Chanyeol waits, stalled. His eyes are bright, caring, looking for any sign of discomfort. Baekhyun’s heart leaps, jumps, in his chest. Threading fingers through his curls, Baekhyun pulls Chanyeol down for a searing kiss that makes him almost forget where they are.

 

“You can move now,” Baekhyun whispers. “But go slow... it’s been a while.”

 

Chanyeol smiles gently, then drops a kiss on Baekhyun’s nose. “What happened to fucking you until you can’t walk?”

 

“Ease me into it,” Baekhyun chuckles, wrapping his arms around Chanyeol’s neck. “Then you can fuck me into another dimension.”

 

“Noted.” 

 

Baekhyun learns Chanyeol keeps his promises. He does fuck him into another dimension, but only after fucking him slowly, holding with arms under his back, which he uses to manhandle Baekhyun in a spectacular way that has him seeing stars by the end of it. It doesn’t even matter that Chanyeol doesn’t change positions throughout most of it, because Baekhyun has enough with Chanyeol whispering his name into his neck, like it was his most valued secret, and the warmth of his body on top of him, holding tight like he was a precious thing.  

  
  
  
  


On a weekend, Chanyeol decides to drive with Baekhyun to Seulgi’s farm. It’s a long-overdue visit, he claims. Baekhyun doesn’t mind it one bit—he had even thought about suggesting Chanyeol go with him because anything is so much fun when Chanyeol is around. 

 

When they climb out of the car, Baekhyun notices Chanyeol’s straw hat sits a little crooked on his head due to his untamable curls. He takes off the hat to comb through the curls though, wild as they are, the strands spring up again rebelliously. Chanyeol stares down amusedly at Baekhyun as he puts his hat back on, his hands going to Baekhyun’s hips. 

 

“Do you think I could get away with kissing you?” Chanyeol says, glancing pointedly at the house. “How much time do we have?”

 

“I don’t know,” Baekhyun replies, laughing. “Like thirty seconds? Seulgi must’ve heard the car and she’s going to wonder why we haven’t knocked yet.”

 

“We gotta hurry up then,” Chanyeol says, tilting Baekhyun’s chin up to kiss him. Baekhyun now regrets putting the hat back on, because sliding his palms up Chanyeol’s pecs to end at his curls is one of his favorite things to do when he’s kissing him. But he can play with the neck of his plaid, in tandem with Chanyeol’s thumbs playing with the loops of his jeans. 

 

A cough breaks through the haze in Baekhyun’s head. They both turn in the direction of the sound to see Seulgi standing in the driveway, arms crossed and a wicked smile directed at them.

 

“Am I interrupting something?” Seulgi asks. “I believe the love motel is a little further down the road.”

 

“Thank you,” Baekhyun replies, “but we already have a whole guesthouse to our own.”

 

Chanyeol groans, hiding his face in Baekhyun’s hair. Seulgi tsks, then she laughs, shaking her head at Baekhyun. “You two are shameless.”

 

“That’s just Baekhyun,” Chanyeol chimes in. 

 

“Oh I know,” Seulgi agrees. “Let’s get inside. Mom made teokkbokki for lunch. Thank god she is in the village today or she would’ve had a heart attack if she saw you.”

 

“I’ll keep that in mind next time,” Baekhyun laughs. Seulgi throws him a wary glance like she doesn’t believe him in the slightest.

 

Due to their shamelessness, Seulgi puts them to work before giving them the food. They pick the strawberries in the farm, cutting on the loose stems and watering their hedges. Each time Seulgi catches them playing around—Chanyeol feeding Baekhyun strawberries, Baekhyun stealing a kiss or two from a blushing Chanyeol—she stays the hose on them until they separate like two dogs in heat. Baekhyun does get away with grabbing Chanyeol’s ass when she isn’t looking.

 

They eat the teokkbokki outside with iced tea Seulgi had prepared beforehand. Chanyeol is playing with a stray dog that visits the farm when there’s food around while Baekhyun and Seulgi watch them from their chairs. 

 

“So, Chanyeol, huh?” Seulgi looks at Baekhyun out of the corner of her eye. “Can’t say I expected it.”

 

“It’s nothing serious,” Baekhyun rushes to assure. “We’re just having fun because we’re both single.”

 

“You look so fond of him though,” Seulgi rebuts. “Chanyeol also looks at you like you hung the moon in the sky, but he tends to look at everyone like that.”

 

Baekhyun laughs, “He does.” It’s one of those things he likes about Chanyeol, how much love he can radiate in any expression. Though he won’t admit his heart had tripped over itself at Seulgi’s first implication. “He’s just a really great person.”

 

“I know,” Seulgi agrees. Her voice is soberer now. “Take care of him, okay? He’s been through a lot.” 

 

“Of course I will,” Baekhyun says. “Chanyeol’s also taken good care of me… but I won’t be here forever.”

 

Seulgi’s lips are a straight line in her face. Her small eyes are pensive as she looks on at Chanyeol running around with the dog. “I guess that’s true,” is all she says. 

 

It may be the wind picking up as dusk descends upon them, but a shiver had run down his spine at his own words and the seriousness in Seulgi’s voice.

  
  
  
  


In April, Baekhyun hits the fifty thousand mark. It’s close to the goal he’s set for himself, though it’s not yet quite finished. Chanyeol decides to celebrate all the same, by cooking several dishes and strawberry cheesecake for dessert. 

 

Since the start of spring, they’ve taken to eating outside. That afternoon finds them lounging under the sun on a picnic mat Chanyeol had set over the grass. Baekhyun has his head on Chanyeol’s chest while Chanyeol reads one of his poetry books. Neruda, this time. Every time Baekhyun glances at his face, there are lines of concentration on his forehead and a frown on his lips that borders on adorable.

 

“Did the book offend you?” Baekhyun quips, perching his chin on Chanyeol’s breastbone. “You have such a serious look on your face right now.”

 

“I’m taking the words in,” Chanyeol responds, mouth quirked. The rumble of his voice is scratchy after not using it for over an hour. Baekhyun loves it. “Neruda is one of my favorite poets.”

 

“I know,” Baekhyun says, lying back down on Chanyeol’s chest. “I’ve seen you reading it before.”

 

“Wanna hear this passage?” Chanyeol asks, stroking Baekhyun’s hair. Baekhyun closes his eyes on instinct, soothed by the caresses and warm sunlight. “It’s one of my favorites.”

 

It takes a moment for Baekhyun to answer. “Sure.”

 

“Okay, here goes.” Chanyeol clears his throat. Baekhyun giggles, but it stops, once Chanyeol tugs gently at his earlobe, only to rub it with his thumb and forefinger after. “ _ Laugh at the night, at the day, at the moon, laugh at the twisted streets of the island, laugh at this clumsy fool who loves you, but when I open my eyes and close them, when my steps go, when my steps return, deny me bread, air, light, spring, but never your laughter. _ ”

 

Baekhyun listens to the vibrations in Chanyeol’s chest, the steady thumping of his heart like a treasure buried within. A spell of silence. Then Baekhyun says, “That’s nice.”

 

“Nice?” Chanyeol laughs, his entire upper body shaking. Baekhyun’s head slides off his torso a little. “I can’t believe you can’t appreciate this when you’re a writer.”

 

Baekhyun yawns, lifts his head to squint at Chanyeol. “It’s good, alright. I love it.”

 

“You know another verse I like?” The glint in Chanyeol’s eyes is dangerous. It piques Baekhyun’s interest in a second. Baekhyun rolls onto the empty space on the mat and Chanyeol hovers over him. Dark strands fall over his eyes, so Baekhyun pushes them away, sliding down to hold his cheek. 

 

“Which one?”

 

“Kiss me and I’ll let you know.”

 

Chanyeol undresses him easily. Nobody ever ventures in this part of the cliffs; their only witnesses are the fishing boats in the sea and the sea birds squawking above. 

 

When Baekhyun is naked under him, Chanyeol begins licking down his torso, peppering kisses over his skin while reciting his poem. “ _ My words rained over you, stroking you _ .” A lick over Baekhyun’s nipple. Baekhyun keens, biting his lower lip. “ _ A long time I have loved the sunned mother-of-pearl of your body _ .” One of Chanyeol’s hands slips under to stroke him, in tandem with his tongue making his way over his navel. “ _ I go so far as to think that you own the universe. _ ”

 

Baekhyun snorts. “I know this one.” 

 

All of his smugness fades into a gasp as Chanyeol tweaks his nipples. His other hand strokes him slowly, his thumb wiping the come leaking at the tip. “But not like I’m telling it, I bet.” Chanyeol returns to his task of licking over Baekhyun’s hips and sucking over the spots thoroughly, Baekhyun is sure there’ll be bruises later. Appraising his body, Chanyeol whispers, “ _ I want to do with you what spring does with the cherry trees _ .”

 

Wonder skates over his whisper, his eyes tracing Baekhyun’s body reverently. It’s the first time Baekhyun has felt shy in front of a man, but he doesn’t hide, he only beckons Chanyeol with pleading hands to kiss him. 

 

As it was a celebration for Baekhyun, Chanyeol lets him do whatever he wants. And what Baekhyun wants, really, is Chanyeol. So he rides him hard, fast, until his knees ache and even then, he doesn’t stop. When it’s over, he lies on top of Chanyeol for a long while, the sunshine golden and the breeze cool on their sweat-slick bodies.

 

In the evening, Chanyeol proposes driving to a close field to stargaze. They bring blankets and spread them out in the bed of his truck. Chanyeol prepared kimbap and they eat them out of containers, washing them down with cold beers.

 

It’s a cool, fresh night. A breeze rustles the trees, though the chill doesn’t get to Baekhyun in this cocoon he’s built with Chanyeol. He’s warm and toasty in Chanyeol’s embrace, head on his chest and legs tangled, Chanyeol’s arms wrapped loosely around him while his free hand traces the shape of constellations on the firmament. 

 

“Did you know that the sunsets on Mars are blue?”

 

“No,” Baekhyun replies. “And how do you know that, nerd?”

 

“I just like reading,” Chanyeol laughs quietly. “There are lots of astronomy books at the house. Sometimes I get so into something for a while and I really liked astronomy for a bit. You can see the stars so clearly here.”

 

“You can’t see the stars in Seoul,” Baekhyun says. “It’s too full of lights and smog, so it’s hard to see them unless you drive out to the mountains or nearby towns.”

 

“That’s a shame,” Chanyeol murmurs. “I think this is one of the things I’d miss the most if I ever left Yangsu.”

 

“Can I ask you a question?”

 

“Sure.” Chanyeol sighs, rubbing a spot on Baekhyun’s hip with his thumb. “Shoot.”

 

Baekhyun rolls his lower lip between his teeth. If Chanyeol were facing him right now, he would see right through that nervous habit of his. 

 

Sometimes Chanyeol is an open book about his emotions, just like Baekhyun. Baekhyun knows about his parents’ restaurant chain, his school friends, his favorite chefs, his favorite childhood cartoons. But he never talks about the important things. It’s like he’s kept them in a box and locked it away somewhere safe. And Baekhyun is also like that. 

 

Which is why he needs to be careful with his next question: he wants to know more about this man, but he also doesn’t want to scare him away. “When did you start liking men?”

 

To his surprise, Chanyeol takes the question in stride. “When I was in high school,” he replies lightly. “I met this really cute guy, who basically made me realize I liked guys. I experimented with a couple of other guys, but it was never anything serious, because, as you can see, Yangsu isn’t big enough to find many guys who want to commit. And well, I started dating Soojung when she moved here and then I got married, so that was that.”

 

Baekhyun moves away from Chanyeol and props his elbow on the bed. Chanyeol is staring straight at the sky, a mysterious little smile dancing on his mouth. “Where was Soojung from?” 

 

“She was from Seoul, actually.” Chanyeol glances pointedly at Baekhyun. “I mean she studied in America most of her life, but she moved here when her mother got sick. She always talked about Seoul like she hated it, to be honest.” Chanyeol laughs, deep in remembrance. “She liked America more than South Korea, anyways. She always used to say we should go there someday, but we never made real plans to visit.”

 

Chanyeol falls into a wistful silence, his gaze lost within the sky. Baekhyun’s aware he isn’t seeing the stars, but Soojung, and all the unfulfilled dreams and aspirations that lurk in the corners of his memory. Baekhyun wants to reassure him that it’s not his fault he spent so little time with Soojung. Sometimes time just slips away like sand between fingers, elusive and capricious, and all is left is the futility of wasted chances.

 

“You could go to Seoul sometime,” Baekhyun suggests with a smile, poking Chanyeol on his side. “It’s big and noisy, but there are places that are worth visiting. Like the Namsan Tower—it’s a tourist trap but you can see the best sunset there. Or the Spring Festival on the Han river… it’s the most beautiful time of the year.”

 

“The best sunsets are here in Yangsu,” Chanyeol says. “But I’d go if you’re willing to be my tour guide. I’d probably get lost as soon as I step outside of the bus station, I’ve never been to anywhere bigger than Yangsu.”

 

Baekhyun pictures Chanyeol in Seoul, with his straw hat and patched glasses, his eternal plaid shirts and sun-faded jeans in the middle of a bustling street in Myeongdong. The image is so funny and endearing it brings a laugh out of Baekhyun; his farmer look wouldn’t fit well in chic cafes or clubs, the type of places Baekhyun frequents. In contrast, Baekhyun imagines Chanyeol on his sofa, snuggled together under a blanket during a movie night, and he deems it would be a perfect fit for him.

 

“Hey, what’re you laughing at?” Chanyeol puckers his lips in faux offense. “I thought we were having a moment here.”

 

“I wasn’t laughing at you,” Baekhyun lies. Chanyeol does not believe him in the slightest, by the wariness marring the space between his brows. Chanyeol plunges on top of him to tickle Baekhyun until he’s pleading and heaving in peals of laughter. Baekhyun squirms to wiggle himself free of the attack, and when Chanyeol doesn’t budge, he squeaks, “Okay! Please, stop!” 

 

That seems to work, because Chanyeol laughs as he moves some of his weight onto the bed of the truck, though one of his legs remains atop Baekhyun’s thighs. “You’re so ticklish,” Chanyeol comments through a chuckle. “I love it.”

 

Baekhyun punches Chanyeol lightly on the shoulder for his trouble. Chanyeol kisses his forehead and his chin to placate him, though Baekhyun can feel the shape of his smile perfectly against his skin. 

 

“Since we are in an oversharing mood,” Chanyeol whispers, then brushes Baekhyun’s bangs aside. “I’ll trade you a secret for a secret.”

 

_ Of course _ , Baekhyun reasons. Chanyeol wouldn’t share something private about himself without asking for something in return to put them in even ground. Baekhyun is like that as well. 

 

“What do you want to know?”

 

The question is spelled out in a whisper, just like he would a secret. “Did you have feelings for the guy you dedicated your book to?” 

 

Baekhyun draws in a breath. Suddenly, he’s more winded than he was a second ago when Chanyeol was tickling him. It only lasts a second before he focuses on the look of curiosity that Chanyeol directs his way, the sincerity shimmering in those round eyes.

 

“I thought I loved him,” Baekhyun responds, “but now I’m not so sure.”

 

“Why?”

 

“I don’t know,” Baekhyun murmurs. “I think I just wanted him to want me back. To have a reason to stay. But Jongdae was just looking for a good lay… I don’t blame him, really. I’m a magnificent lay.” Chanyeol wheezes a tiny laugh. Baekhyun looks down at the plumpness of Chanyeol’s lower lip, just to avoid the weight of his gaze. “He knew that’s all I had to offer him, honestly.”

 

It’s like a weight has been lifted off his chest. Baekhyun had never admitted that to someone else and voicing the truth has liberated him somehow. For months, he had tried so hard to keep Jongdae’s interest, but they were doomed from the start. Neither of them was ready to commit to people. 

 

Before Jongdae, there was Jongin, Joohyuk, Jinyoung—all of them young, beautiful, perpetually in search for the next adventure. Baekhyun couldn’t blame them for not staying, when he’d never dared to try harder… and at the same time, he couldn’t ignore the sting that none desired to stay by his side.

 

Chanyeol slips a palm under his shirt, a subtle, gossamer touch, yet it pulls Baekhyun back to the present. 

 

“Thank you for telling me that,” Chanyeol murmurs, gentle as a breeze. By now Chanyeol has learned all of Baekhyun’s weak spots; he’s highly aware that the caresses on his stomach are calming and it disperses some of the tension in the air. Baekhyun finds comfort in Chanyeol’s warmth, the pleasant roughness of his palm on his skin. “I like knowing more about you.”

 

For the last half decade, it’s been a constant habit in Baekhyun’s life to be naked in front of strangers. Sometimes for a single night, sometimes for months. But he has never felt as exposed as he feels that moment in the back of Chanyeol’s truck, breathing in the same crisp air.

 

“About me?” Baekhyun repeats, puzzled. “There’s nothing interesting about me.”

 

“There are plenty of interesting things about you,” Chanyeol insists, lifting Baekhyun’s right arm to kiss his wrist. “Like you use a coconut-scented body wash in the shower. Or that you need to sleep exactly six hours or more, any less makes you grumpy in the morning. That you like pepper in your scrambled eggs and spicy food of any type. That you talk to yourself while you’re writing.”

 

“You shouldn’t be eavesdropping.” Baekhyun laughs and tugs Chanyeol’s ear in playful reprimand. Chanyeol squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, his smile bright with mischief. Adoration trickles warm in Baekhyun’s chest, spilling to every corner of his body. “That was probably classified information about my book, you know.”

 

“I promise I didn’t hear anything compromising.” Chanyeol folds Baekhyun’s fingers to kiss his knuckles. “But all of that and so much more makes you interesting to me.”

 

“You’re way more interesting.” Baekhyun tucks a stray strand behind Chanyeol’s ear. “Like the fact that you can do so many things, but you don’t know how to properly tie your shoes or cut your hair.”

 

Chanyeol laughs, head dropped to Baekhyun’s neck. Baekhyun squirms under the damp warmth of his breath. He titters, ever so ticklish, and clings onto Chanyeol. 

 

“That’s part of my charm,” Chanyeol jokes, pressing a kiss to Baekhyun’s neck. Baekhyun curls his fingers over Chanyeol’s shirt. “I honestly just have too much time on my hands here.”

 

Baekhyun wants to tell him he’s the most interesting person he knows, with all his secrets, all his hobbies. That Chanyeol is a lake that Baekhyun wants to plunge into headfirst to learn all of his secrets, and then keep digging deeper. That he can trust Baekhyun. But he isn’t sure how the other would take that, given that Baekhyun himself can’t really trust people.

 

“I’ll trade you another secret,” Baekhyun proposes. A pause follows where Baekhyun gathers his breath, traces his knuckles over Chanyeol’s cheek. Chanyeol’s eyes are open, bright, a childlike curiosity and sincerity that Baekhyun finds refuge in. “You’ve never wanted to leave this place?”

 

A couple days ago Baekhyun had found a university brochure in Chanyeol’s room. It was crinkled into a precarious ball and left to gather dust at the foot of his bed, until Baekhyun, looking for a missing sock, had rescued it.

 

A range of emotions flickers through Chanyeol’s expression, too fast for Baekhyun to catch them all. When it settles, there’s only a cold, quiet sort of calm that does nothing to appease Baekhyun. Chanyeol’s stare is steady and withholding, so there’s nothing to be read in it. “Once. A long time ago. But not anymore.”

 

Chanyeol’s tone doesn’t invite further questioning. Baekhyun nods and offers, placatingly, “Do you want my secret?”

 

Tension hangs over them, heavy as a rain cloud. Something in Chanyeol’s countenance shifts; it’s in the slight tilt of his brows, the minute frown around his mouth, though Baekhyun doesn’t know what it means. These past months Baekhyun’s come to learn that Chanyeol keeps his true emotions tightly shut, and this unguarded look on his eyes is novel, vulnerable, and entirely confusing. 

 

Baekhyun’s heart squeezes.

 

“I’ll collect it another time,” Chanyeol whispers.

 

Baekhyun accepts it readily when Chanyeol tips his chin to kiss him. This kiss is hungry, imploring, Baekhyun kisses back just as eagerly, desiring the type of distraction that Chanyeol is after. Both are not the type of people to expose much of themselves and each has bared enough for one night. 

 

Kissing Chanyeol is comforting. Familiar. Baekhyun seeks refuge in his touch, his scent, the coarse skin of his hands on his body. In this haze of pleasure, Baekhyun can almost forget he is falling for this man dangerously fast or that there’s an expiration date set for them. That this fling won’t outlast the summer.

  
  
  
  


Sex isn’t quite what Baekhyun would call… whatever this is. Being with Chanyeol makes the rough, detached sex he had with his fuck buddies seem like a joke in comparison. Hell, not even Jongdae comes close. 

 

The exact word for it came to him one night during the act itself, when Chanyeol was moving inside him deliberately slow, just to tease Baekhyun. He’d opened his eyes and found Chanyeol staring at him like he was the most beautiful thing on earth, chanting his name in reverent whispers like a prayer. It had knocked what little air was left in him. 

 

_ Is this what it feels like to make love _ ? The words had flashed across his mind in neon letters, reverberating in a dusty glimmer. As he traced his hand over his chest, he’d felt how Chanyeol’s heart thumped along his own, much like their bodies moved at the same rhythm. Baekhyun had reached for Chanyeol’s hand to link their fingers, and Chanyeol kissed him, long enough that Baekhyun forgot to breathe.

 

Chanyeol trailed his lips along his jaw, hips gaining speed, pistoning into Baekhyun. He clung onto Chanyeol’s back for dear life, nails digging into the damp flesh. Then another thought hit him:  _ If I were to die in this moment, I wouldn’t mind all that much. _

 

And that, right there, was a problem.

  
  



	3. while love love love, love grew rings around me

For the next week, Baekhyun throws himself into work. During his last call, he’d promised Minseok he’d give him an update on the ending of the story. But the thing is, Baekhyun doesn’t have an ending yet and to compensate he tries to write as much as he can of what he’s outlined already. 

 

Baekhyun tells himself it has nothing to do with Chanyeol. But it does in some way. They don’t see each other much that week, because Baekhyun stays in his room most of the day and only leaves to get the food Chanyeol saved for him in the fridge. Inevitably, a part of him is remorseful for avoiding Chanyeol like this, but Baekhyun manages to convince himself that he’s been slacking off in his writing lately and he needs time alone to catch up. 

 

It’s late April when Baekhyun closes in on sixty-thousand words. Much of it is unedited, so he stays up late at night to edit what he wrote during the day. Even if he has no one to distract him at night, he barely gets a wink of sleep as he tries to get through this deadline he’s set for himself. 

 

With barely any food and sleep in the past days, it’s no wonder that he gets sick.  During his third day of reclusion, his head is hazy and his eyes watery, his vision blurs in and out of focus when he tries to concentrate. Baekhyun lies down on his bed for a quick nap to relieve some of the pressure in his head, thumping away in his temples, and he quickly falls into a profound, dreamless sleep.

 

When he opens his eyes after an indiscernible amount of time, he finds Chanyeol hovering above him. Concern is written plainly on his expression, from his knitted brows to the taunt line of his mouth. Baekhyun is parched; his lips unstick like two pages pasted together when he tries to speak a few words, only for incoherent babbling to come out.

 

“It’s okay,” Chanyeol is saying, his voice coming from miles away. “You need to sleep. Let’s talk later.”

 

So Baekhyun goes back to sleep with the reassurance of Chanyeol’s company. His presence seeps into his dreams: his laughter, the lines around his eyes, the way he looks at Baekhyun when he’s said something particularly exasperating. He dreams of Chanyeol stark naked and sprawled on a carpet of flowers, and he has all the freedom to touch him, kiss him, love him… 

 

Baekhyun wakes up again to the sound of rain pattering on the windows. It’s dark in the room, except for a single candle on Chanyeol’s bedside table. Chanyeol is snoring quietly next to him, an arm wound loosely over Baekhyun. Chanyeol often doesn’t look peaceful when he sleeps, a frown ever-present between his brows, but this time his expression is as smooth and peaceful as the surface of a lake. 

 

Within the fogginess in his mind, Baekhyun wonders for a brief moment if he’s still sleeping and this is all a dream. But when he tilts his head to the side and brushes his lips softly across Chanyeol’s, their sandpapery texture feels real and familiar. Chanyeol stirs, pouty lips trembling with a quiet grumble, then he’s relaxed again. Baekhyun shuffles closer to Chanyeol and goes back to sleep in his arms.

 

The rain has subsided when Baekhyun awakens hours later. Greyish sunlight filters through the windows and Baekhyun has to blink several times for his eyes to adjust. Chanyeol is standing by the bed, holding a wooden tray with a steaming bowl and orange juice on it. 

 

“Good morning, sleepy head,” Chanyeol singsongs. “I made you some jjigae for the cold. It’s going to make your head feel better.”

 

“Thank you,” Baekhyun croaks. Chanyeol chuckles, putting the tray on the nightstand and sitting next to Baekhyun. He helps Baekhyun sit up in bed by shuffling the pillows then passes him the orange juice to drink. 

 

“You gave me a scare last night,” Chanyeol reproaches, staring Baekhyun down sternly. Baekhyun has to school his expression so as to not let out a chuckle because Chanyeol looks more endearing than threatening. “I can’t believe you overworked yourself into getting sick. You barely ate an entire meal this week. If you’re going to work this hard, you should feed yourself better.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Baekhyun mumbles, “for being a pain in the ass.”

 

It mellows Chanyeol to the point he allows a tiny smile. Coupled with that dimple in his left cheek he is ridiculously charming. Baekhyun smiles, warmed. Chanyeol reaches out to brush Baekhyun’s bangs aside, his fingertips sliding over his temple to his earlobe. They stare at each other in silence for a long moment, until Chanyeol remembers the food and dips a spoon in the broth to offer Baekhyun. 

 

“You don’t have to feed me.” Baekhyun gazes amusedly between the spoon and Chanyeol. “I’m not a baby, Chanyeol.”

 

“You’re weak right now,” Chanyeol argues with a tired grin. “But not weak enough to lose the snark, I see. And anyways,” Chanyeol nudges the spoon a little closer, “I like taking care of you.”

 

Baekhyun rolls his eyes and closes his mouth around the spoon. The soup is delicious and he readily takes another spoonful without any shame. “Is this a kink of yours?” 

 

“No,” Chanyeol answers flatly. “But if you keep complaining I’m just gonna leave you here to fend for yourself.”

 

“You’re really going to abandon your patient like that?” Baekhyun teases, accepting another spoon. “How would I live without your food? I don’t know how I’m going to survive without your cooking when I’m gone.”

 

Not a second later, Baekhyun flinches, wishing he could take the words back. Chanyeol’s smile slips for the tiniest of fractions, then it’s back on as if nothing happened. Baekhyun hadn’t meant to mention it, his big mouth had run on autopilot. 

 

“I’ll teach you how I make it,” Chanyeol suggests. “It’s a Park family recipe, so I’ll be literally granting you an old heirloom.”

 

“It’d be an honor,” Baekhyun murmurs. “Would you read me later?”

 

Baekhyun yawns. The antibiotics are making him sleepy. Chanyeol puts away the bowl once the spoon scrapes the ceramic and helps Baekhyun lie down on his pillows.

 

“I’ll read to you,” Chanyeol ensures him, “but I won’t promise I’ll be as good as you.”

 

“I already said I like your voice, didn’t I?” Baekhyun lies on his side. “Deep, loud voice… Very sexy.”

 

“Okay, I’ll take it those are the meds talking.” Chanyeol chuckles, getting to his feet. “I’ll let you sleep.”

 

“Night, Chanyeollie,” Baekhyun says. At last, he closes his eyes, giving in to the exhaustion dragging him down. 

 

“It’s not even night,” he hears Chanyeol laugh in the distance, though it may have been right next to him. 

 

When he wakes up next, the sun is sinking beyond his window. It takes a moment for his eyes to adjust to the encroaching dark. As his brain clears, he ponders about Chanyeol and his reaction the mention of Baekhyun’s impending leave. 

 

It may be because Chanyeol will be all alone in this big house… and not exactly because of Baekhyun. The thought of leaving Chanyeol here brings a pang to the center of his chest, because he can’t bear the image of him being lonely again. Most importantly, Baekhyun can’t stand the thought of not staying with him. It’s the first time he’s willing to admit that to himself and he doesn’t know what to do with that.

 

It’s not like Baekhyun is going to leave any time soon. He shouldn’t be thinking about something that hasn’t happened yet. And who knows, maybe Chanyeol doesn’t want him to stay. Maybe he takes this as just a fling, because, truth be told, Chanyeol hasn’t shown any real signs of wanting Baekhyun back in a serious way. Baekhyun should stop overthinking this or else he will get his heart broken, just like he did with Jongdae. 

 

Just then, the door opens and Chanyeol comes in with another tray. When he sees Baekhyun is awake, he smiles, closing the door after himself and turning on the bedside lamp. 

 

“Hey, how was the nap?” Chanyeol asks. “You were out the whole afternoon.”

 

“I know,” Baekhyun mutters. “The workaholic in me feels kinda guilty for all the time I’m wasting on not working.”

 

“You deserve some rest,” Chanyeol tells him. “You can’t work on sleep deprivation and an empty stomach, can you?”

 

“True,” Baekhyun concedes. Though he doesn’t tell Chanyeol that’s exactly how he’d been working the entire time before he came to Yangsu. It’ll probably earn him a good ear tug. “What do you have for me now?”

 

“Some more soup,” Chanyeol says, dipping the spoon in the broth, “to get you back in form.”

 

“This reminds me of my grandma’s cooking,” Baekhyun says. “She always used to let me skip class whenever I claimed I was sick because I didn’t want to go and she would make me soup just to play along with me.”

 

“She sounds like a cool grandma,” Chanyeol remarks. “It also sounds like something  _ you _ would do with your kids.”

 

“I got my cool personality from her.” Baekhyun deliberates that one of the reasons that he’s felt so comfortable in Chanyeol’s home is that his kitchen is a replica of his grandmother’s, with the old brass skillets hung on the walls and the potted flowers in the windowsills.

 

Chanyeol notices his silence and feeds him some more soup. Baekhyun already feels a little stronger than he did earlier in the day and his head is lighter than it was when he woke up. 

 

“Will you read to me now?” Baekhyun asks, blinking coquettishly at Chanyeol. 

 

Chanyeol rolls his eyes, more for show than anything. “I’ll get us some tea first.”

 

When he comes back, Baekhyun has moved to his edge of the bed to make space for him. He is sitting upright, hands on his lap, looking up at Chanyeol expectantly. It makes Chanyeol laugh as he brings two steaming mugs to the bed, the book tucked under his arm. 

 

“So eager for the book, aren’t ya?” 

 

“Mostly excited about the reader,” Baekhyun jibes. Chanyeol laughs harder, sitting next to Baekhyun. “He’s kind of a hottie.”

 

“I’ll have to agree with you there.” Chanyeol pushes his hair back, flexing his biceps before picking the book. Baekhyun snorts and takes a sip of his tea. “Now, where did we leave off?”

 

Chanyeol lies sideways, left elbow on the bed to support his head. Luckily for Baekhyun, he’s read the book several times, because his attention wanders to the reader. Chanyeol’s lips moving around the words is particularly arresting, the way his tongue rests at one end of his mouth whenever he flips the page, or how his nose scrunches when he encounters bulky words. Every so often, Chanyeol would push up his glasses with his index finger, flipping his tongue over his lips to moisten them and Baekhyun marvels at the glossiness left behind over the pinkish plumpness of his bottom lip.

 

“I don’t like Briony,” Chanyeol murmurs. Baekhyun shifts his attention from the adorable mole on Chanyeol’s nose to the book. “Why didn’t she try harder to get Robbie out of jail? Why didn’t she just tell the truth?”

 

“She was a kid,” Baekhyun argues. “She was confused and scared at the time, but she tried to repent when she was old enough to recognize her mistake.”

 

“Duh.” Chanyeol holds up the cover with the word  _ Atonement _ written over it. “But still… it just sucks that a secret kept Robbie and Cecilia apart for so long.”

 

At Chanyeol’s words, Baekhyun ponders on his own secrets, like he never could tell Jongdae about his feelings. Or that his feelings for Chanyeol grow stronger each day, like the strawberry buds in Seulgi’s farm in balmier climates.

 

“Secrets do that to people,” Baekhyun reflects. Chanyeol peers at him then. Baekhyun notes with confusion a darkening to Chanyeol’s gaze, his mouth slackened, the ends of his eyebrows pulled downwards. Then, in a blink, the unnamed emotion disappears behind a sly smile, as quickly as it had come. 

 

“Is that in your next book?”

 

“Shut up.” Baekhyun nudges him with an elbow. “You’re getting some of my best lines for free.”

 

“It’s not free if I give you something in return,” Chanyeol ripostes. The silky tone and hooded lids work on Baekhyun like a trick, because his brain is at a loss for a comeback, when Chanyeol is dipping to capture his mouth. It feels like it’s been years since he last kissed Chanyeol, but it’s only been a few hours. Chanyeol tastes like the sugar in his tea, and Baekhyun chases the flavor as he slides his tongue across the seam of his mouth, savoring each and every one of the sighs he plucks out of him. 

 

When they finally break away, Chanyeol leaves a chaste kiss on Baekhyun’s upper lip, where he knows he has a mole, and another on the tip of his nose. Baekhyun almost wants to drag Chanyeol down for a longer kiss, but he doesn’t think he has the strength to go through with the aftermath. That kiss has exhausted a good portion of his energy—he’d probably fall asleep during the best part and Chanyeol would never let him live it down.

 

Chanyeol makes no attempt to move things forward either, for he lies beside Baekhyun, moving close enough so Baekhyun can fit his head in the hollow of his shoulder. 

 

“Easy, tiger, you’re still recovering,” Chanyeol jokes. 

 

“It’s not my fault you’re so cute.” A healthy blush blooms on the apple of his cheeks over the compliment, and coupled with that lopsided grin, Baekhyun has to plant his palms over the mattress so as to not yank at Chanyeol’s shirt for another kiss. 

 

“Okay, let’s not get distracted. I’m here to read to you.” Chanyeol grabs the book where he’d left it on the bed and skims over the pages. “Okay, where were we?”

  
  
  
  


Baekhyun awakens the next morning to quiet snoring close to his ears. The second thing he notices is that he’s pressed against Chanyeol’s chest and he’s hot all over. Chanyeol has him wrapped tight, one arm tucked under him, and Baekhyun has to crane his neck to get a look at his face. 

 

To wake him up, Baekhyun tickles him over the ribs, until Chanyeol groans, scrunches his nose. Chanyeol begins squirming, tiny wheezes slipping past his groans, and Baekhyun laughs, his lips rubbing against Chanyeol’s collarbones. 

 

“G’morning,” Chanyeol mutters. “Why am I being attacked?”

 

“I needed to wake you up,” Baekhyun replies. “You’re practically squashing me.”

 

“M’not,” Chanyeol mumbles. He can’t keep his eyes open for longer than a second and Baekhyun laughs under his breath. “You’re so warm.”

 

“I feel sticky and gross,” Baekhyun protests. “I’m going to take a shower and change my pajamas.”

 

Baekhyun tries to wriggle himself free, but Chanyeol tugs him close again, arms vice-like around his waist. “Chanyeol, let me go!” 

 

“Wait, I’ll go with you,” Chanyeol says, through a yawn. “What if you slip and crack your head or something.”

 

“Thanks.”

 

Chanyeol takes off his clothes through half-closed eyes. He only seems a little more awake when he spots Baekhyun naked in the shower, waiting for the water’s temperature to adjust. 

 

Baekhyun hasn’t recuperated entirely from his cold; his body feels boneless as he stands under the warm water. He drags the soap lazily around his body until Chanyeol notices and takes the bar from him. 

 

“Let me do it.”  

 

Chanyeol touches him everywhere, without the heat and intention reserved for sex. None of that rush to touch, to grab is present. If anything, it is soothing, relaxing, and just as intimate. Through the slippery consistency of the soap, Baekhyun can feel the rough texture of Chanyeol’s palms. Next is Baekhyun’s body wash, the smell of coconut permeating the air. Baekhyun makes sure to spread some on Chanyeol’s body as well, to which he laughs as he is tickled again. 

 

Never has he felt as secure or content as he does in that moment, when Chanyeol washes his hair, and Baekhyun leans against his chest with his eyes closed. 

 

Freshly clean after their shower, they decide to forgo breakfast for a few more hours in bed. Baekhyun changes into another set of pajamas and Chanyeol puts on a clean shirt and boxers. They don’t have to speak when they slip under the covers, Baekhyun scoots close and Chanyeol wraps his arms around him before they drift off back to sleep together. 

  
  
  
  


As spring wears on, Baekhyun finds himself at a crossroads with his book. The ending keeps eluding him—he can’t make up his mind on how to end it. It had been an obvious bet at the beginning, but now he’s not so sure. Perhaps he wants this one to end on a more hopeful note than his previous one.

 

“A happy ending?” Minseok wonders over the phone when Baekhyun decides to call him for advice. “That’s new. What turned you into a softie over there?”

 

“Nothing,” Baekhyun replies. “Maybe I just wanted to change it up a little bit.”

 

Minseok hums on the other line. Baekhyun can almost picture the man’s piercing cat-eyes scrutinizing Baekhyun. “Or was it someone who softened your cold-hearted ass?”

 

Baekhyun has a flash of Chanyeol sleeping beside him that morning, mouth parted around puffing snores. The curtains weren’t drawn all the way, so the early morning light glowed over the crown of his head, softening the crooked shape of his nose, smoothing over his cheeks. He isn’t sure how long he watched him sleep until Chanyeol finally stirred in his sleep. 

 

“I’m hanging up,” Baekhyun declares. “I’ll call you later.”

 

“Wait!” Minseok exclaims when Baekhyun hovers over the red button to end the call. “The radio show deal came through! You need to get here soon to get all the details about the show and the book ready. We want to use the show to promote the book and vice versa.”

 

“Oh,” Baekhyun breathes. “That’s so soon.”

 

Acid roils in his stomach as a million excuses cram behind his teeth. Baekhyun could tell Minseok all about it—it’s not like he’d kept Chanyeol a secret, but he did with his feelings. In this dirt trail at the outskirts of Yangsu, his pulse quickens as if Minseok could sniff the secret off him from thousands of miles away.

 

“Yeah, well, you went there just to write the book, right?” Minseok questions. “And it’s almost done so I need you here.”

The previous night Chanyeol cooked cheese tortellini and strawberry roll cake for dessert. He wants to tell Minseok this and  _ everything _ . To confess how Chanyeol cooks his favorite meals after Baekhyun has spent grueling hours hunched over his desk, how Baekhyun prods Chanyeol about what he is reading, just because it gets Chanyeol going on a lengthy speech about what he loves and hates about it, full of amusing tangents. That he’s a tiny bit in love with his energy, his passion.

 

That Chanyeol is everything he’s been looking in a man and more. That he can see him himself spending years with him, perhaps a whole lifetime. And it completely terrifies him.

 

From the outset, Baekhyun avoided to set a definite date for his departure. He hadn’t considered that his real life could catch up with him, encroach on his happiness. This date looms so near, so immediate in his future. Minseok has just reminded him that his return is imminent because he belongs elsewhere and this idyllic time with Chanyeol had an expiration date since the start. 

 

When Baekhyun returns home, he finds Chanyeol in the armchair, staring blankly at a piece of paper in his hands. A deep frown mars Chanyeol’s beautiful face, his gaze unreadable and glued to the paper. The curtains are drawn, the room is shrouded in semi-darkness, and the shadows make Chanyeol look ten years older.

 

“Is something wrong?”

 

“It’s a letter,” Chanyeol answers in a whisper. “From Soojung’s parents.”

 

“What about?” Baekhyun stalks closer to him. “Do people still send letters nowadays?”

 

“It’s not that type of letter.” Chanyeol folds the letter and Baekhyun notices, with mounting worry, that he is shaking slightly. In the ensuing silence, as Chanyeol evidently tries to calm himself by drawing in a breath, Baekhyun’s concern does not wane. “I’m going to sell the house.”

 

“What?!” Baekhyun stands in front of Chanyeol. “Are they making you do that?”

 

“Not really.” Chanyeol takes off his glasses and places them on his lap. “The house was in Soojung’s father’s family, we just came to live here when we got married because it was going to be Soojung’s anyway. Now his father needs money and they’re pressing me to sell it.”

 

Baekhyun hates the weariness in his voice, the resignation in the slump of his shoulders. “But you’ve been living here for so long,” he perseveres. “How can they just ask you to leave like that?”

 

It’s appalling that Chanyeol has surrendered before the fight even started. All the outrage Baekhyun feels on Chanyeol’s behalf subdues and gives way to increasing frustration at the evident defeat eradiating from the other man.

 

“Chanyeol, aren’t you going to do something about it? This is your home, how can you—” 

 

“It’s my fault she died,” Chanyeol snaps loudly. “And they have a right to hate me for it.”

 

Silence befalls the room. The bitterness in his words lingers in the air like a poison. Baekhyun doesn’t know what to say. It’s strange to see Chanyeol this angry, to hear the biting acrimony in his tone. Chanyeol, who produces his own sunshine wherever he goes.

 

“Chanyeol, it wasn’t your fault,” Baekhyun tries softly. “I’ve told you before. It’s not your fault she died in that accident. The roads are slippery in the winter.”

 

“But what if it was my fault she even drove up there in the first place?” Chanyeol goes on. “If it hadn’t been for me, she wouldn’t have been on the road during a snowstorm.” 

 

Chanyeol is no less sharp when he speaks again. Guilt has permeated his voice, his eyes, so strongly it prickles Baekhyun.

 

“Chanyeol…”

 

Chanyeol stands abruptly and walks out of the room without a word. Baekhyun hears the backdoor slamming shut in the next moment, his heavy footsteps stomping on the wooden steps. Baekhyun has the urge to go and look for him, but he doesn’t want to intrude on Chanyeol when he needs to be alone.

 

The rest of the afternoon goes by in a futile attempt to focus on his draft. The girl has found her ex-boyfriend bound to a hospital bed, walking the thin line between life and death. She isn’t sure she wants to stick around at first. That is until she has another dream where they walk along the Han river, reminiscent of their first date at the start of spring, when they were both young and hopeful, tiptoeing around a timidly budding love. 

 

It’s then she decides to keep him company during visiting hours. Unfortunately, that’s also when she hears about his parent’s decision to let him go.

 

Baekhyun can’t decide whether he will let his character live. There’s the option of his character waking up from his coma and staying with his ex-girlfriend, whom he remembers from his dreams—or choosing the more obvious route to him: death. 

 

This is the first time Baekhyun has been unsure of an ending. Normally, the outcome of the story appears in his head before the events that lead up to it. But there’s something about these characters—or the story—that has made him reconsider. He doesn’t want to believe that one of the reasons he’s hesitant to kill off the boyfriend is that he’d unconsciously modelled him after Chanyeol. 

 

Sometime before sundown, Baekhyun goes downstairs to check on Chanyeol. The host is outside, sitting on the steps and staring into the sea beyond the overlook. A wind has picked up from the waves, so Baekhyun brought a blanket with him, which he drapes carefully over Chanyeol’s shoulders.

 

Chanyeol looks up in surprise, wide eyes pulling a smile from Baekhyun. “Thanks,” Chanyeol murmurs, turning back to the sea. “I was going to go inside to fetch a jacket.”

 

“It’s fine,” Baekhyun reaffirms, sitting next to Chanyeol. “What are guests for, right?”

 

“Sorry for storming out on you earlier,” Chanyeol tells him. “I sort of freaked out and I needed to be alone.”

 

“You don’t need to apologize for that,” mumbles Baekhyun. “I get it, Chanyeol.”

 

“Maybe I should tell you what happened.” Chanyeol rubs the tip of the blanket between his fingers. “You were right the other day, when you said secrets keep people apart. Soojung died because of a secret I kept from her.”

 

Baekhyun frowns. “What do you mean?”

 

“I lied to you before,” Chanyeol says, staring out into the sinking sun. “I did want to leave Yangsu and it wasn’t that long ago. Cooking professionally has been my dream since high school and I wanted to go to college so bad, but then I met Soojung and I became scared of leaving her. I thought she would stop loving me so I stayed here by her side.”

 

“But you still wanted more,” Baekhyun prompts. 

 

“I began researching how expensive it would be to study in another city,” Chanyeol continues, “and I thought I could do it… but Soojung didn’t take it so well. That night she left we’d had a fight because I wanted to move away for school. She didn’t want to go with me, but she also didn’t want me to leave. I thought it was unfair, so I fought back.”

 

Baekhyun shifts closer to Chanyeol, and as if on reflex, Chanyeol leans against him, head perched on top of Baekhyun’s for comfort. “It’s not your fault, Chanyeol. It still isn’t, after all this time.”

 

“But if she hadn’t been upset with me,” Chanyeol persists, “she wouldn’t have left home. She would’ve stayed with me. Safe and alive.”

 

“There is no way to know how things would have turned out,” Baekhyun tells him. “Maybe she was still planning to go to her parent’s home.”

 

“She wanted me to stay here with her so I couldn’t leave this place,” Chanyeol says. “Every time I’ve thought about moving out of Yangsu to go back to school, I remember how brokenhearted she looked when she thought I was leaving her.” 

 

“Chanyeol, you can’t be living in the past,” Baekhyun says. “Would Soojung want to see you forgoing your dreams to stay here?”

 

“I know that,” Chanyeol murmurs. “But still…”

 

The rest of his sentence is swept away by the breeze. They stay like that for a long time, even after the arm Baekhyun has around Chanyeol goes numb. 

 

“What are you going to do?”

 

“I don’t know.” Chanyeol lifts his head. “I guess I’ll have to go back to my parent’s house until I figure out what to do.”

 

Baekhyun has the enormous urge to tell Chanyeol he can move in with him when he comes back to Seoul. But he deems it would be venturing into dangerous territory and Chanyeol could misinterpret Baekhyun’s intentions. 

 

“Chanyeol, if you need my help with anything…” 

 

“No, you’re my guest,” Chanyeol refuses adamantly. “I don’t care if you’re paying me, you’re still a guest in this house and you shouldn’t be worrying about me.”

 

“It doesn’t bother me,” Baekhyun appeals to Chanyeol. “When you said you like taking care of me… I’d also like to take care of you.”

 

Chanyeol has that look in his eyes again, like he’s searching for something in Baekhyun. It’s such an intense stare, Baekhyun has to look away and focus on the threadbare texture of Chanyeol’s blanket.

 

“Thank you,” Chanyeol whispers. “I feel so lucky to have met you.”

 

It takes Baekhyun off guard, the fondness in Chanyeol’s words, the way his heart trips over itself. Baekhyun gathers himself in time to return Chanyeol’s smile, lets Chanyeol takes his hand and give it a grateful squeeze. 

 

“You’re welcome, Chanyeol.”

  
  
  
  


Two nights later during dinnertime, Baekhyun notices half a dozen empty grocery boxes stacked in a corner of the hall. 

 

“It’s for packing my stuff,” Chanyeol explains, when Baekhyun asks. “I have to have them shipped to my parent’s place before I leave.”

 

Baekhyun knows the answer to his question before he even asks. But he needs to hear it from Chanyeol. “So you’re not going to fight for the house?”

 

Chanyeol shakes his head. “Giving them this house is the least I can do… It will make me feel a little better as well.”

 

“But you love this house,” Baekhyun insists. The ruefulness in Chanyeol’s smile is palpable, so much so it stirs an ache within him.

 

“I do love it,” Chanyeol coincides, scratching his cheek. “But I figure it’s a good time to move on and finally do something with my life. I’ve been here for too long… This place holds plenty of good memories, as well as some memories I’d rather forget.” 

 

Baekhyun can’t think of what to say. Suddenly he feels ashamed for his insistence, because he hadn’t stopped to consider that it may be Chanyeol’s own decision to leave this place behind.

 

What breaks his heart, though, is that once Chanyeol gives the house away, the possibility of a reunion will die. All along Baekhyun held into a tiny shimmer of hope that he’d have a place to return someday, with a flimsy excuse of leaving Seoul in favor of the tranquility of the countryside, just to be with Chanyeol again.

 

It was a selfish, unfeasible dream, for he’s unaware of Chanyeol’s real feelings for him. So far he hasn’t made any indications of wanting to see Baekhyun again after this summer and Baekhyun isn’t brave enough to mention it. Right now, it’s possibly the last thing on Chanyeol’s mind.

 

“I’m sorry,” Baekhyun mumbles, disheartened, “for insisting.”

 

“Don’t apologize.” Chanyeol ruffles his hair with a genuine grin. “You probably love this house as much as I do, don’t you? After Soojung died all I had was this house and her memories, now all I’ll have left are the memories. That’s why I want us to make good memories here… for as long as we can.”

 

Melancholy sweeps across Chanyeol’s tone. It plucks a string in Baekhyun’s heart, that Chanyeol has been alone for so long with the memories of people who left him behind. Baekhyun wonders if he will become one more of his ghosts when he returns to his old life soon. 

 

“Don’t talk like that,” Baekhyun reprimands. He crawls over to Chanyeol and climbs into his lap, trapping him with his thighs around his hips. “I’m not leaving tomorrow.”

 

Baekhyun combs Chanyeol’s hair off his forehead, tucking it neatly behind his ears, which stand proudly on pointy ends. Chanyeol tips his head back, eyes closed and smile content, letting Baekhyun have his way with his him. It’s such a beautiful smile; close-lipped, one dimple on his left cheek, the swell of his bottom lip prominent and tempting. Baekhyun’s heart billows like a ship’s sails, cruising over the vast immensity of his feelings.

 

When he kisses him, it’s slow, thorough, wonderful. Chanyeol strokes his back, waist, thighs, emitting low sounds that make Baekhyun’s blood burn hot in his veins. Baekhyun traces his tongue over the roof of his mouth, the back of his teeth, finding a taste of chamomile tea and milk.

 

They nearly forget to breathe until Chanyeol pulls back in a gasp. Baekhyun chases after him on instinct, and Chanyeol chuckles fondly, draws him in for a final peck. 

 

“Wanna go on a walk? It’s a little hot in here.”

 

Outside, the sky is an inky canvas dotted with millions of stars. A tender breeze rises when they make their way around the trails, the temperature cool for a spring night. Baekhyun can’t be cold anyway, not with how close he walks to Chanyeol, nor with the way their fingers are interlaced, palm to palm, swaying gently between their bodies like leaves on the trees around them. 

 

“Look at that boat.” Chanyeol points to a lone fishing boat out in the sea, its lights like pinpricks in the darkness of night. “When I was a kid, I used to think the fishing boats that went out into the ocean at night were wandering ghosts looking for a body to take over.”

 

“Little Chanyeollie was scared of ghosts?” Baekhyun laughs, nudging Chanyeol’s arm. 

 

“Not really,” Chanyeol replies. “My dad told me lots of ghost stories. You kind of hear them a lot around here.”

 

“My mom told me folk tales,” Baekhyun says. “It’s how I got into writing, really. I couldn’t stop thinking about alternative endings to the tales, where the heroine would win and stay with her lover… and that’s how I started creating my own stories as a kid.”

 

“I love when you tell me about yourself.” Chanyeol squeezes his hand. “It’s like bits here and there, but I always appreciate them.”

 

The dark is a blessing in disguise, for Chanyeol can’t see the way Baekhyun’s blood rushes to his face. Chanyeol’s eyes are bright, brighter than the stars above, the shadows penciling the perfect dip of his cupid’s bow, the uneven shape of his nose, the comical way his ears protrude from within his wild curls. Baekhyun’s breath hitches in his throat. For a lack of anything to say, he reels Chanyeol in to capture his mouth in a searing kiss.

 

Later, when Chanyeol is sleeping soundly beside him, Baekhyun thinks about the pain in Chanyeol’s features when he’d told him about the house. Baekhyun can’t dispel the feeling of a countdown hanging over his head, with his time with Chanyeol shortened by a lot. Right there, he decides that he will try to make the most of the rest of his trip, even if Chanyeol doesn’t reciprocate his real feelings, and he will take them with him back to Seoul.

  
  
  
  


Sehun and Kyungsoo show up at the guesthouse on a Tuesday with gifts: a basket full of food—from Kyungsoo—and two Hite six-packs—from Sehun. Since it’s Chanyeol’s last weeks in town, Sehun made the trip from college to spend time with him and roped Kyungsoo into tagging along. 

 

After dinner, Chanyeol takes Kyungsoo to the living room to show him a new song he’s learned on the guitar. Baekhyun and Sehun stay back in the kitchen to wash the dishes. Baekhyun rinses the bowls in the water and passes them onto Sehun, who dries them with a drying cloth. 

 

“I’m going to miss you around here, hyung,” Sehun says. “You and Chanyeol. I can’t believe he’s finally leaving this place.”

 

“I know,” Baekhyun says. “I’m going to miss it here.” 

 

“Maybe you could come visit us in the future,” Sehun says, “once Chanyeol has a steady place.”

 

“What gives you the idea that Chanyeol would want to see me after I leave?” Baekhyun laughs awkwardly. He opens the tap too sharply, so water sprays on his face. “I don’t think…”

 

“He likes you a lot,” Sehun replies simply. “And I can see you also like him. Even if he doesn’t see it.”

 

Sehun seems to be peering straight into the depths of Baekhyun’s soul. Baekhyun gulps, his mouth dry as a desert. “I…”

 

“Chanyeol is like a puppy sometimes,” Sehun says. “If you give him some affection, he will give it back tenfold and never leave your side.” 

 

“The curls sure make him look like a puppy,” Baekhyun remarks. “And those damn eyes…”

 

“He looks so much happier than he was before you came here.” Sehun sets a bowl in the rack, the ceramic clinking in the kitchen. “You did that, hyung.”

 

“I didn’t do much,” Baekhyun cavaliers. “I just bothered him and ate his food.”

 

“It’s not just that.” Sehun shakes his head. “I think it’s something else. Chanyeol has—”

 

“What are you two saying about me?”

 

“I’m telling him all your embarrassing stories from middle school,” Sehun lies. Chanyeol squeaks, then throws the nearest kitchen cloth at his friend. Sehun cackles, grabs the drying cloth he was using and tosses it at Chanyeol. “It’s not like Baekhyun-hyung doesn’t have an idea of how clumsy you are.”

 

“I already told him about my pet ferret,” Chanyeol says. “I’m one step ahead of you.”

 

“At what, embarrassing yourself?”

 

Sehun and Chanyeol continue their bickering when they move to the back of the house for late-night beers. At some point, Baekhyun notices Chanyeol shivering, and he rises from his spot on the stairs to zip up Chanyeol’s jacket, fixing the hood so it covers his neck. It’s become a habit of his, fixing Chanyeol’s clothes wherever they are. 

 

Chanyeol grins down at him pleasantly, and Baekhyun can almost swear the darkening in his cheeks is because of him, but it’s likely a mix of the beer and the cold. Resuming his seat on the steps, he catches sight of a knowing look on Sehun, his eyes sharper than before, and Baekhyun takes a draught of his beer just to ignore the heat that pools at the base of his neck. 

  
  
  
  


The start of May marks Baekhyun’s last days at the guesthouse. At Minseok’s insistence, Baekhyun caved in and picked a date for his return to the city: June 4th. A week before Chanyeol is set to part from the guesthouse.

 

Most of Chanyeol’s stuff is packed in boxes—he and Baekhyun had spent an entire weekend packing everything Chanyeol wanted to take to his parent’s home. Baekhyun hadn’t missed the chance to poke fun at Chanyeol about his things, which included a secret anime figurine collection and a couple Rilakkuma plushies that had seen better days. Sometimes Chanyeol would find something special among a plethora of random stuff and fall into a melancholic silence. On such occasions Baekhyun never dared to speak and went on packing quietly. 

 

That Saturday, the weather is pleasant, clear skies expanding endlessly over the mountain peaks. Early in the morning, Chanyeol packs food into plastic containers to put in his backpack and they set off on his bike before it gets too warm. Sitting at the back of the bike is a bit uncomfortable, but in this spot, Baekhyun can wind his arms around Chanyeol and rest his head on his back, look over his shoulder at the world whirling past them. Every so often, Baekhyun would sneak a kiss over the ridge of Chanyeol’s spine, bared by the low neck of his shirt.

 

They take a break on a bridge so Baekhyun can take a picture of the birds pacing around the water and knee-high grass in the marshals. They ride through the village, where Chanyeol chats with every ahjumma that comes his way and Baekhyun pretends he doesn’t notice that his eyes are shiny when he lets go. 

 

It’s late in the afternoon when they decide to rest under the shade of a grove of apple trees. A few fallen apples are scattered around the clearing, their rotten remains emanating a cloying scent that clings to the air. 

 

Chanyeol plucks two apples from a branch and hands one to Baekhyun. He doesn’t eat it. Instead he watches as Chanyeol eats his own in big bites, his mouth and chin glossy with juice.

 

“I hadn’t been on a bike ride in so long,” Chanyeol mentions, eyeing the apple absently. “I’ve always liked how immense the fields look when you’re on a bike. I used to go on bike rides with Sehun a lot before I got married.”

 

“Why did you stop?” 

 

“We got busy.” Chanyeol shrugs a shoulder. “I got married, Sehun got a scholarship and moved away. Things like that happen when you become an adult. But I still came out here on my own sometimes to think.”

 

“Park Chanyeol, thinking,” Baekhyun jokes, taking Chanyeol’s hand in his. “Now that’s a new one.”

 

“Shut up.” Chanyeol nudges him and Baekhyun takes a bite of his apple. “Back when Soojung died, I locked myself up in the guesthouse for months. Sehun and Kyungsoo would drop by to make sure I ate, bring food and cook for me and everything. Then one day I came out and started walking… I spent the whole time wandering through the fields and I did that almost every day for like a month. It was healing in some ways.”

 

“This place  _ is _ healing,” Baekhyun says quietly.  _ You also healed me _ , he wants to say. But when Chanyeol looks at him with a gentle smile, Baekhyun wants to think he can read his mind. 

 

“Anyways, I explored a lot and found lots of new places.” Chanyeol takes the apple from Baekhyun and takes a huge bite. “This is one of them.”

 

“It’s beautiful,” Baekhyun whispers, staring straight at Chanyeol. He takes the hand he’d been playing with and kisses the back of it. “Thank you for sharing it with me.”

 

Chanyeol unveils his tender smile, the one that hides his teeth and stamps a dimple on his cheek. Baekhyun has a compelling need to kiss him. But it’s Chanyeol who takes the initiative, despite them being in public; he scoots close until their knees bump and cradles his jaw to tilt his head in his direction. Chanyeol kisses him like a force of nature, resolute, unhurried, taking his time to sweep Baekhyun off his feet and leave him breathless. 

 

The kiss tastes of sweet apples and honey tea, the smell of damp grass and flowers crowding in on him and mixing with the scent of Chanyeol. Baekhyun knows he will remember this moment, keep it locked inside his heart along with the feel of Chanyeol’s touch, the fuzzy texture of his plaid under Baekhyun’s fingertips.

 

“This is for you to remember me by,” Chanyeol whispers, slick lips moving over Baekhyun’s cheek. “Thank you for creating new memories with me.”

 

“Chanyeol…” An idea suddenly strikes him. Baekhyun pulls back to pluck a camellia flower from the ground, then brushes Chanyeol’s hair aside to tuck the flower in his ear. The yellow petals smooth the sharpness of his cheekbones. “This is my keepsake for you because you’re as pretty as a flower.”

 

“Thank you,” Chanyeol says sincerely, “I’ll keep it safe.”

 

Then Chanyeol captures his mouth again with gentle determination and steals Baekhyun’s breath from his lungs.

 

Later that evening, they have sex over the carpet in the living room, next to the couch. On wobbly legs, Chanyeol drags himself to the kitchen to prepare a quick dinner consisting of cold noodles, which tasted better than the ones Baekhyun’s had in Seoul. 

 

There are stacks of books around them that Chanyeol has yet to put in boxes. Baekhyun had seen him going through his cookbooks and old novels, but until then, Baekhyun hadn’t noticed how many travel books Chanyeol owned. ( _ These are Soojung’s _ , Chanyeol had explained when he caught Baekhyun looking,  _ I didn’t even know they were still here.) _

 

After dinner, they lie on the carpet as Baekhyun reads  _ Atonement _ aloud. By now it’s not a novelty how good of a listener Chanyeol is, because he’s sat through several of Baekhyun’s rants after a torturously slow writing session. Even so, it is refreshing how still he sits, how attentive he appears as he stares at Baekhyun like a schoolboy with his favorite teacher. 

 

This particular night, the attention is so undivided, Baekhyun becomes bashful. It’s obviously intentional, for Chanyeol slips a hand under the flimsy blanket to stroke his belly, so Baekhyun stumbles over the words twice. In the end, he slaps Chanyeol’s arm and sniggers at the shocked gasp it pulls out of him. 

 

“What did I do?!”

 

“Your staring is distracting me,” Baekhyun accuses, returning to the book. “And that hand under the blanket isn’t helping either.”

 

“Am I so distracting?” Chanyeol’s tone is infuriatingly smug. Baekhyun scowls at the book. Fingers run down his naked shoulder and Baekhyun shivers under the touch. “How do you think I’m fairing with you looking like this while I’m trying to focus on the book? I can’t stop thinking that you’re naked under that blanket.”

 

“Can’t believe you’re addicted to my dick,” Baekhyun jokes, with a snort. A blasé Chanyeol lifts his eyebrows, as if saying,  _ and you’re just realizing this now?  _ Baekhyun guffaws, burning with a chaotic blend of pride and embarrassment _. _ “Can’t say I blame you, though. It’s a fantastic dick.”

 

“It  _ is _ a fantastic dick,” Chanyeol agrees readily, “and I’d really like it in me again within the next hour.” Chanyeol lies down on his back to stare blankly at the ceiling. “But I’m still too damn full from dinner so I don’t think I’ll perform too well.”

 

“It’s okay, Gramps,” Baekhyun chortles, patting Chanyeol’s belly. It has a squishy mass that Baekhyun loves. “I’m still full, too.” He lies down as well, resting his cheek on his folded arms to look at Chanyeol.

 

“Baekhyun,” Chanyeol starts, then pauses to moisten his lips. “I have something to tell you.”

 

“What is it?”

 

Chanyeol expels a long stream of air. “I’m taking a trip. I’m backpacking through Japan, just like Soojung wanted to travel through Europe.”

 

“What?” Baekhyun’s heart sinks to his stomach. “When?”

 

“I’m leaving next month,” Chanyeol says. “I thought, why not? I have to leave the house anyway, I should just do what I’ve been putting off for so long. I’ve saved money over the years and I’ve always wanted to visit Japan. What better time than the present, right?”

 

“That’s so soon,” Baekhyun says, “why didn’t you tell me before?”

 

“I decided it tonight,” Chanyeol tells him. “No more hesitating over things. I’m just going to do whatever I want.”

 

Surprise passes over genuine glee for Chanyeol. This is his dream, this is him putting one of his ghosts to rest. 

 

Inevitably, it also leaves a dull ache, for Chanyeol is already slipping through his fingers like spring water. At least, Baekhyun will be comforted in the knowledge that Chanyeol will be chasing after his own happiness, plunging into a new adventure every day.

 

“I’m really happy for you, Chanyeol,” Baekhyun says. “If you ever consider visiting Seoul, you can stay on my couch for free.”

 

“Someday,” Chanyeol says. “If the tour you promised me is still up.”

 

“Of course, I just hope you don’t get lost in Japan first.” It’s risky, to let his feelings show, but he can’t help it. “Would you write me? While you’re in Japan?”

 

A cast of emotions zips across Chanyeol’s countenance. It passes as quick as it had come, but it leaves behind a quietness, an assurance, like calm waters after a storm. Chanyeol moves closer until he’s between Baekhyun’s legs, so close Baekhyun can count each of his long lashes over his cheeks.

 

“Like postcards and old-fashioned letters?” Chanyeol prods good-naturedly, nuzzling the side of Baekhyun’s face. “That’s kind of romantic for the guy who doesn’t believe in love.”

 

“I think somebody softened me a bit,” Baekhyun quips. The last note in his voice quivers as Chanyeol’s drags his nose across the bend of his neck. “With all his old man poetry and cheesy comebacks.”

 

The want pooling inside Baekhyun is tearing him apart at the seams the more Chanyeol delays kissing him. But Baekhyun is already showing a bit of vulnerability, he doesn’t know what would happen to him if he kissed Chanyeol now, when his feelings are written so plainly on every inch of his features.

 

“So will your book have a happy ending this time?” 

 

“Maybe,” Baekhyun hums absently. “Maybe my character will stay with the love of her life and live happily ever after. Like you said, things that are impossible in real life can happen in fiction.”

 

Chanyeol strokes his thumb across Baekhyun’s cheek in such a tender way, Baekhyun is compelled to close his eyes right as Chanyeol finally lifts his head in search of his mouth and hooks him in a greedy kiss. 

 

_ In fiction, city boys stay with their spring lovers _ . Baekhyun wants to believe Chanyeol understands this, by the way he’s kissing him like he holds the cure he needs to survive. 

 

“You know, I think I understand Robbie a bit,” Chanyeol says a minute later, “why he’s a bit reticent when he sees Cecilia for the first time in years.”

 

Baekhyun frowns. “What do you mean?”

 

“My heart has also been roughened a lot, but it hasn’t hardened… it’s actually become even more sensitive.” Chanyeol stamps a kiss to Baekhyun’s shoulder. Placating. The balm before the wound. “It’s gotten used to losing people, but I don’t know if it’ll be able to stand losing another person.”

 

What Chanyeol is telling him is clear to him. Chanyeol is afraid of loving someone after losing Soojung in such a way. 

 

It’s not a rejection, but it hurts like one. Baekhyun lets it sink in, tries to swallow it down when it gets wedged in his throat. 

 

Like a scolded child, Baekhyun wants to hide and lick his wounds in peace. Just like he did when Jongdae ghosted him and he escaped to the countryside to avoid seeing his face and hearing his voice everywhere. 

 

But Chanyeol is not Jongdae. Chanyeol is more than deserving of his heart, and Baekhyun is well aware he is not hurting him on purpose. This is Chanyeol at his most vulnerable and Baekhyun must accept this truth.

 

It stings with the needling pain of an infected cut in the center of his chest. Yet, he nods and beams. A bit taut and overly wide. “We had a great time, though. Didn’t we?”

 

“We did,” Chanyeol agrees, wrapping his arms around Baekhyun waist and pulling him into his lap. Baekhyun goes willingly. “I won’t forget these past few months easily.”

  
  
  
  


Baekhyun leaves the guesthouse on a Thursday. 

 

The bags are in the trunk of a cab he’d called to take him to the station. It’s a sunny, beautiful day. Baekhyun wishes he could go on a walk through the fields with Chanyeol or eat lunch at the overlook. Instead, they’re sharing their goodbyes outside the guesthouse. 

 

“Take this,” Chanyeol tells him, handing him a book. “You can read it on the train.”

 

It’s his Neruda poetry collection. There are several pages dog-eared. Baekhyun knows it’s his most favorite book and he looks up at Chanyeol disbelievingly. “Are you sure?”

 

“Yeah.” Chanyeol shrugs. “I heard the best gift is giving something you love.”

 

Baekhyun looks at the book wonderingly, aware of how much it means to Chanyeol. His vision fogs, and he blinks fast to keep the tears at bay. 

 

That morning, he almost cried when he said goodbye to Seulgi and her mother at the farm. He’d taken with him a generous batch of strawberries for the trip and a goodbye kiss on each of his cheeks. Seulgi looked disheartened at his departure, but she had smiled when Baekhyun hugged her and suggested special strawberry deliveries to Seoul. 

 

“Thanks, Chanyeol,” Baekhyun says. “I’ll take care of it well. What are you going to read on your trip?”

 

“Probably not  _ Atonement _ ,” Chanyeol jokes. “Though it was nice reading it with you.”

 

“ _ Atonement _ is one of my favorite books,” Baekhyun admits. “I was just trying to get you to like it.”

 

“I feel so cheated now,” Chanyeol scoffs, stepping close to Baekhyun. “I’m onto you, Byun Baekhyun.”

 

It’s downright risky, insensible, irresponsible, but Baekhyun will let himself be reckless just this one time. Chanyeol must’ve read his mind, because he’s placing his hands on Baekhyun’s hips at the same time the other fits against him, his arms draping over his neck and his mouth finding Chanyeol’s almost of their own accord. 

 

Baekhyun tries to commit Chanyeol’s taste to memory—peppermint tea, blackberries and bananas from his pancakes—as well as the feel of him; his tongue sweet and inviting, stroking over his palate, his fierce hold around his waist, as though he was also trying to anchor Baekhyun to the spot. If he were to write about a perfect kiss in the future, it would be this one a thousand times over, the sun in his eyes, the warmth of Chanyeol’s body, his breath stealing into his empty lungs. 

 

It ends too soon, as all good things do. Baekhyun unclasps his fingers from Chanyeol, and Chanyeol retreats a step away from him. 

 

“If I ever miss it,” Chanyeol says, glancing at the book, “I’ll go to Seoul to get it.”

 

“I can still show you around the city, whenever you want,” Baekhyun offers, smiling shyly. A tremor sneaks into his voice, though he makes no attempt to clear it. “Country Boy.”

 

“I’ll be looking forward to it, City Boy.” Chanyeol curls his fingers over his jaw and plants another kiss on his lips. Their mouths graze for all of two seconds, but Baekhyun closes his eyes nonetheless. “I’ll buy your book when it’s out. It’ll be a hit, I can tell.”

 

A glimmer of emotion illuminates Chanyeol’s almond eyes. Baekhyun’s chest is so tight, he can barely breathe. “You better give me your review. If it’s bad, just keep it.”

 

“I will,” Chanyeol promises. “Have a safe trip, Baekhyun.”

 

“You, too.” 

 

Baekhyun smiles at Chanyeol one last time and gets in the car. The driver starts the engine and drives away from the guesthouse. On impulse, Baekhyun turns in his seat to see Chanyeol standing outside the guesthouse, growing smaller and smaller in the distance. His hand is still up in a wave when the car passes by a bend and his shrinking figure disappears entirely behind a thick grove. 

 

Never in his life Baekhyun had felt as though an essential part of his soul had been wrenched away from his body in a single second. The burn of this absence aches with every intake of breath, every exhale, with the lingering memory of Chanyeol’s lips, the rumble of his voice whispering against his ear. 

 

Tears fall down his cheeks, one after another, unbidden. Baekhyun makes no attempt to control them, and luckily for him, the driver remains silent on his end.

 


	4. we were wild and flourescent, come home to my heart.

Amber leaves whirl near Baekhyun’s feet as he makes his way through the crowd. It’s Friday morning and the streets are reasonably packed with people heading to their jobs or school. Baekhyun loves this kind of busy—or used to. His time in Yangsu had accustomed him to the peace and quiet of a small town, where few people could be seen milling about outside on a regular day. 

 

It’s been two months since he left Yangsu, but Baekhyun feels like he’s still there, with how he can’t quite get used to the bustling streets of Seoul, to the way people look at him with mistrust when he stands close in the subway. Back in Yangsu, people would greet him in the street even if they had never seen him before. 

 

For the past month he’s been hosting a radio show.  _ Moon Café FM _ is called. Baekhyun liked it from the start, as it gives the idea of sitting in a café with a friend to talk about love and life over coffee. Exactly what he aims to do in the show.

 

Minseok had been right, it is perfect for him. He enjoys talking to people every day about their problems or anything that crosses their minds, and he’s built quite a fanbase with women, ones who didn’t know him from his books. The show has also helped him distract himself after finishing his book and having nothing else to do for a month.

 

Minseok had loved it. Baekhyun had sent the final draft late at night, then spent the rest of the day sleeping, catching up on all the sleep he’d forsaken in favor of finishing in time. Minseok had replied to him in less than six hours—a record for him—full of praises for the story and his writing. It’s going to be a hit, Minseok had predicted.

 

The book is due to be released in November, right at the start of winter. Minseok thinks it’s perfect for the weather, as people are more inclined to read sad stories. And he’s a seasoned agent, so he must know what he’s talking about. He’s never been wrong in his predictions before.

 

_ Moon Café  _ is quite popular for an author. People call constantly to talk about the day’s topic, or anything, really. Sometimes he gets calls from fans just to tell him they love his book and include a sneaky comment on how handsome he is.

 

Today’s topic on the show is about friends venturing into romantic territory. Baekhyun had gotten a few calls already from twenty-something girls talking about how they’ve been dating their best friends since high school, to high school girls talking about how they’ve had crushes on their best friends since middle school. It’s all terribly endearing to Baekhyun and he can’t help sometimes slipping in some aegyo, just to cheer up some of his listeners. His producer doesn’t like it, but whenever Baekhyun does it, he just turns a blind eye, because he knows it drives his audience crazy. 

 

“Sometimes the best kind of love is the one we get from people who knows us,” Baekhyun says into the mic. “The love from our best friends is so deep and different from the rest because they love us for who we are, instead of the image of us we want them to see.” 

 

Jongin gives him a thumbs up from the booth, fuzzy smile and puppy eyes. Baekhyun sticks his tongue out at him. Jongin is a program assistant fresh out of college, baby-faced and sweet-spoken, with the body of a Calvin Klein model. 

 

“That was profound,” Jongin teases, when he’s left the booth. “Is age softening you, hyung?”

 

“Only in my asscheeks, Jonginnie,” Baekhyun jokes. Jongin giggles, high and adorable, mouth covered by a palm. Female staff in the vicinity turn in his direction, as in on instinct. “Anyways, I actually meant what I said.”

 

“Did you?” Jongin’s stare is scrutinizing. It doesn’t quite suit his softness and it mellows out after a millisecond. “Wanna grab a drink with the crew? We were thinking of going to noraebang when we’re properly drunk off our faces.”

 

“That’s the only way to do noraebang.”

  
  
  
  


Every week, the teams gathers at the nearest bulgogi restaurant for spicy pork and drinks. By the end of the night, those still standing drag themselves to a noreabang two blocks from there and croon to cheesy hit songs until the early hours of the morning. 

 

During these weekly events, the praises often fall on Baekhyun, for he’s the face and voice of _Moon_ _Café_ , but he redirects them to the staff with grace. As the ratings keep growing each week, there are tentative talks about renewing the show for another season the following year. Truth be told, Baekhyun would resign in a heartbeat, if he were asked to stay. 

 

Mina, the head producer, is a closeted rock fan, and she lets Baekhyun coerce her into duets that end up in them drunkenly laughing into the mic. Jongin takes over her to sing a heartfelt rending to modern girl group songs—butchered choreography and everything—which eventually convinces everyone to join in. 

 

That night Baekhyun has gone easy on the drinks. He sits at the corner of the far couch, a very tipsy Jongin slumped against his side. Jongin may tower over everyone in the room, but he’s a notorious lightweight with a penchant for drunken cuddles.

 

“When is your book coming out?”

 

Jongin nuzzles Baekhyun’s neck, his inebriated breath tingling his skin. With a tremor in his chest, it triggers a memory of Chanyeol sitting this close at the back of the guesthouse on the brink of summer. 

 

“In November,” Baekhyun replies. “Looking forward to it?”

 

“Of course, hyung, I love your writing,” Jongin mumbles. “I hope this one is happier.”

 

“I think you’re in for a surprise.” Baekhyun pats Jongin’s knee. “If you don’t like it, I promise I’ll take you to dinner to make it up.”

 

“I hope you cheer up when it comes out,” Jongin adds. “You’ve looked… kinda sad these past couple of months.”

 

“I’m fine, Jonginnie,” Baekhyun reassures him. “I just miss someone, that’s all.”

 

“Are they ever coming back?”

 

Baekhyun doesn’t have an answer to that. 

  
  
  
  


This autumn is colder than usual. Resuming his life in Seoul is harder than Baekhyun thought upon his return. It’s like he’s in two places at once, Seoul and Yangsu. Sometimes he’d let his mind wander and think he’s still in Yangsu, and that Chanyeol would stride through the door anytime.

 

After Jongdae began screening his phone calls, and eventually disappeared from his life, Baekhyun realized their only routine consisted of meeting at night, whenever one of them was in the mood. No lost shirts, socks or toothbrushes were found at his place. It was like Jongdae hadn’t existed at all.  

 

With Chanyeol, it’s the exact opposite: his presence is everywhere. Baekhyun can still hear echoes of his laughter, smell his food in the air sometimes. If he closes his eyes, he can imagine that the sound of the traffic outside resembles that of the sea and he can almost hear the gentle notes of a guitar. Sometimes he dreams of Chanyeol so vividly, he wakes up hugging his pillow and a yearning so deep, it accompanies for the rest of the day. 

 

Baekhyun works, works, works, and forgets about it. 

 

He almost succeeds. 

  
  
  
  


In late September, a surprise comes into his life in the form of singer Jongdae Kim on  _ Moon Café FM _ . Baekhyun’s show is the second stop of his promotional tour in light of a repackage album. 

 

Nerves seized Baekhyun in an iron grip when he spotted the singer’s name on the week’s schedule. On the day of, however, Baekhyun remains professional as Jongdae strides in wearing tight jeans and a leather jacket, the kind of outfit that Baekhyun would have had him out of as soon as he walked through his door a year ago. But that smile, the cat-like curls of his lips, doesn’t ignite the same fire it once did. 

 

They shake hands, Jongdae bows, and they talk and laugh with the awkward casualness of two people who have seen each other naked and in compromising positions.

 

Their charisma combined makes for interesting talk and funny anecdotes, with the audience constantly remarking upon it in their comments. The minute the show is over, and the guest star has finished exchanging  _ you did well _ ’s with the staff, Jongdae walks straight over.

 

“Hey, can I walk you to your car?” he queries, all friendly smiles. “We haven’t spoken in so long.”

 

Baekhyun’s first instinct is to reject the offer and run for the door. But Jongdae uses those puppy eyes Baekhyun could never resist and he’s saying yes before he can think about it better.

 

The elevator ride to the parking lot is short and silent. Inwardly, Baekhyun’s insides are a beehive of anxiousness during the walk to his car, and his pulse quickens when Jongdae turns to him with a seriousness that sharpens his features, except for the steep slant of his brows.

 

“Listen, I’m sorry I stopped calling,” Jongdae starts, earnest. “I got really busy with work and then I was away for the holidays and… I’m an asshole.”

 

An entreating note has seeped into the gravel of his voice. Jongdae is famously noted for invoking feeling in the coldest of listeners… And yet, he doesn’t spark a single speck of emotion within Baekhyun. 

 

To begin with, the apology is long overdue. Back in January, or even February, it would’ve elated Baekhyun, relieved him of the regret of not confessing in time and the guilt of the end of their arrangement. In the present, Baekhyun is well aware that it’s not his fault he wasn’t able to keep this man’s attention, when it was a matter of time before he set his sights elsewhere.

 

“You are.” Baekhyun chuckles with no heat. Jongdae smiles warily. “But it’s cool now. I’m happy you’re doing well.”

 

“Likewise.” Jongdae closes the distance in an assured step. Baekhyun recognizes that look. “If you ever wanna hang out sometime…”

 

Resentment leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. Jongdae has lowered his voice an octave, in that way that trickles down Baekhyun’s spine in a tingle. 

 

The singer knows what he’s doing, Baekhyun can tell in the self-assured squareness of his shoulders. Baekhyun has the brief urge to give in, breach the short distance and kiss Jongdae senseless, touch him in all the places that drive him crazy, if it meant it’d lessen some of the yearning that has been constricting Baekhyun’s chest for months. 

 

Getting under someone to get over someone else has proved to be an efficient practice in the past, but Baekhyun isn’t sure these type of feelings can be simply fucked out of him.

 

“I’ll have to say no to that,” Baekhyun declines, smile cheerless. “But thanks for the offer.”

 

“Guess I deserve it, huh.” Jongdae stuffs his hands in his pockets. “Are you seeing anyone at the moment?” 

 

“No,” is Baekhyun’s immediate response. It does not sound like the truth. “But I’m in love with someone.”

 

“I hope he knows how lucky he is.”

  
  
  
  


A letter arrives to his address on a rainy morning in October. Baekhyun’s heart lodges in his throat when he sees the postmarks are from Japan. 

 

_ Remember when I told you the best sunsets where in Yangsu? I might’ve been wrong. I found some pretty amazing sunsets in Japan as well. Guess I’ll have to see if the sunsets are beautiful in Seoul, like you mentioned. _

 

Baekhyun rereads the sentences once, twice, thrice. He rereads them until they stop making sense and the words become a jumble of sounds in his head.

 

Since his return, he hadn’t read the poetry book Chanyeol gave him. It would hurt, Baekhyun knew. Chanyeol’s ghost lurks in the pages of all the books he read over the spring, sitting side by side in the floor or snuggled cozily on the couch. Whenever he tries to read a new book, his mind invokes Chanyeol’s voice in the words, and Baekhyun has to stop reading for the ache to subside. 

 

Writing about people falling in love never taught him of its nuances. That it can hurt, as much as it can soothe and heal. Baekhyun never thought falling in love would feel like an empty house, where Chanyeol’s presence haunts every corner, his laughter echoing through its vacant rooms and hallways.   

 

When Baekhyun grabs the poetry book from his bookshelf, it opens on a page bookmarked by a pressed flower slotted in its spine. Baekhyun realizes with a lump in his throat that it’s the same camellia flower he’d braided into Chanyeol’s hair on his last days at the guesthouse. 

 

Baekhyun reads the poem where he found the flower:

 

_ I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.  _

_ I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride; _

_ so I love you because I know no other way _

_ than this: where I does not exist, nor you, _

_ so close that your hand on my chest is my hand, _

_ so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep. _

 

He lies down on his couch, closes the book and holds it to his chest. It hits him then he doesn’t have much to remember Chanyeol by, only this book and a couple of sneaky pictures in his phone. All he has left of Chanyeol is a letter, a poem and a handful of memories that will last him forever.

  
  
  
  


Baekhyun’s book is released in the last week of November. 

 

Just like his first book, it’s an instant bestseller. It also garners great reviews, which convinces his publisher to option Baekhyun for another novel. Minseok prints some of the reviews and jokes about framing them. Baekhyun doesn’t question him.

 

Minseok organizes a small book signing for the press and fans in a bookstore that his friend owns. Baekhyun signs fifty books, back to back, in between chatting with his fans about what they thought of the book. They tell him they still cried, even though the ending hadn’t been a sad one.

 

After the signing, he talks to the reporters for an hour about his latest book and what he’s writing next. The last thing he’d written was this draft. Another tentative idea has been spinning in his mind, but he doesn’t tell them that. It’s still rough, and he wants to keep it to himself. 

 

It’s a quarter to nine in the evening when he’s done. He hangs around the bookstore, waiting, looking out the window from time to time, whipping around in the direction of the door whenever someone goes inside the store. 

 

Chanyeol never comes. 

  
  
  
  


“What happened to your farmer boy?” 

 

Minseok looks far more intimidating under the dim lighting of the bar. Baekhyun takes a swig of his beer to wash down the sudden lump in his throat.

 

“He wasn’t a farmer.” Baekhyun stares pointedly at the wall of bottles behind the bar. “And he wasn’t  _ mine _ , for starters.”

 

“Well, you moped for two months after you came back.” Minseok swirls his drink and arches an eyebrow at Baekhyun. “And you don’t look all that better now…”

 

“I’m doing good, hyung,” Baekhyun says, rolling his eyes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

 

“And I know you’re not seeing anyone at the moment,” Minseok plows on. “So that tells me you’re still hung up on him.” A lick of lips. “And there’s the dedication…”

 

“What about it?” Baekhyun sips his drink.

 

Minseok sighs tiredly, craning forward so Baekhyun is forced to hold his gaze. “I’m just saying that if you love him,” he says slowly, “you should go get him. You know, true love isn’t the express train. It doesn’t come every day.”

 

“Woah, who’s the real writer here,” Baekhyun jokes, though his voice is watery. “Chanyeol lives in the country and I live in Seoul. It’d never have worked out.”

 

“But he wrote you, didn’t he? Who even does that in this day and age? So far he’s tried harder than all the boy toys you’ve been sleeping with for the past four years.”

 

Chanyeol was special. Baekhyun never had to try hard with him, he just tucked himself into a corner of his heart and fit perfectly into his life. So much so, that life without him is still taking some time getting used to, months after he left Yangsu. 

 

Weeks after his return, Baekhyun realized he’d been sleeping on the left side of the bed because Chanyeol usually slept on the right. And he has yet to shake off the habit of making coffee for two, when it’s only him drinking it.

 

“He was married once and his wife died,” Baekhyun explains sullenly. “He said he didn’t want to risk losing another person.”

 

“Ah,” is all Minseok says. “I get it.”

 

“It doesn’t matter anyway, because I don’t know where he is.” Baekhyun scrapes at the wooden surface of the bar. “He had to sell the guesthouse so he was going to live with his parents. And he didn’t give me their address, not even a phone number. So I wouldn’t even know where to start looking for him.”

 

Disappointment descends over Minseok’s youthful face like a mantle. Sharp eyes have mellowed a considerable degree with something akin to pity. Baekhyun can’t bare it, so he fixates on the amber liquid sloshing in his glass.

 

“Anyways,” Baekhyun’s laugh is a discordant sound, “when is the book tour starting?”

  
  
  
  


As November slushes into December, winter comes back in full force. Winter means he has to add more layers to his bed, because there’s no one to keep him warm at night. Baekhyun turns on his floor heating every morning and thinks about the freezing floorboards of the old guesthouse.

 

Fans of the show call in to tell him how handsome he looks in turtlenecks and his sherpa jackets, in between relationship advice and music requests. In turn, Baekhyun flirts shamelessly with the audience, until the callers often turn into a giggling, stammering mess over the line. The show has become his pride and joy over the months, he’ll readily accept to stay another season if he’s offered. 

 

“Welcome everyone,” Baekhyun says into the mic on a cold Thursday. “Today’s topic is love at first sight. Is it real or is it just a concept invented by movies and books? Have you experienced it? Call our number or leave a comment on Instagram with your stories and we’ll be reading them on air.”

 

Jongin is staring surreptitiously at Mina as she plays a song for the audience (Bolbbalgan4’s  _ Seattle Alone _ ), his lovey-dovey eyes mistakable to no one. With a smile, he returns to his computer to monitor the responses coming in through their SNS. Some talk about being wonderstruck on first meeting their current lovers, others leave funny anecdotes of falling in love with cute strangers in public transport every day.

 

“Okay, we have a call already,” Baekhyun says, pressing the button to connect the call. “Hello, friend, what’s your story?”

 

“Hello, Baekhyun-ssi.” A male voice fills the studio, a graveled timber that sparks a quiver over Baekhyun. Dozens of emotions arrest Baekhyun, his back rigid in his seat. “First of all, I wanted to tell you I really liked your last book. Made me weep like a baby.”

 

The chuckle that follows is steeped in familiarity, with its husky, faltering cadence. Several things happen in the span of a single second: his heart screeches to a halt, then jolts back up to pump at full speed. 

 

Belatedly, Baekhyun realizes there’s been a beat too long of silence, and as he tries to make his throat work again, he unleashes a shuddering breath.

 

“T-Thank you,” Baekhyun stutters out. “Sorry I made you cry, but we all have those moments.”

 

“It’s okay, it was cathartic in a way,” Chanyeol says. “I’m not a crier, you see, but I was going through something at the time, so it all just flowed out.”

 

Baekhyun can picture perfectly the smile Chanyeol must be wearing on the other side. Yearning coils itself around his neck like a noose, barely allowing space to breathe. “I’m sorry to hear that,” he laments. It comes out jarringly cheery by the nerves, so he moderates his tone. “We all hope you’re feeling better now. So tell me, do you believe in love at first sight?”

 

“No, not really,” Chanyeol answers with a chuckle. “I am a romantic, but I think the best types of romances are nurtured over time.”

 

“How’s that so?”

 

“Well, like in  _ Before Sunrise _ , the characters fall in love in a day,” Chanyeol elaborates, “but it’s not love at first sight, because they actually fall in love gradually over the day, during all those hours they spend talking. They didn’t have that much time together, yet they garnered a great love for each other… and now it’s a classic.”

 

Adoration fizzles inside Baekhyun, smoothing the fissures in his heart as though it hasn’t been a day since he heard Chanyeol last speak. “So has that happened to you? Falling in love with someone over a short period of time?”

 

“This last spring I fell in love with someone,” Chanyeol says in a silky whisper. “I didn’t have a lot of time with them, and I told myself I wouldn’t get attached… but it just happened. The thing is, I never got to tell them.”

 

The admission is almost like a punch to the gut, with the way it’s left him winded. “Maybe that person is listening to our show right now,” he suggests demurely, “and they just heard your confession.”

 

“I have a feeling they already know,” Chanyeol hums. “But they made me a promise we haven’t been able to fulfill yet.”

 

“Which is?” Baekhyun questions, smiling. “Wait, can it be said on the air? I have to remind you some of our audiences are teenagers and seniors.”

 

“No, it’s not like that,” Chanyeol laughs, boisterous. Baekhyun’s chest sings. It’s the best sound he’s ever heard. “Though I gotta say… it was the best lay of my life.”

 

Baekhyun barks a laugh, then quickly covers his mouth. Judging by the looks of horror in the production booth, he’s surely going to get an earful for this. “That would make anyone proud, I think.”

 

“So they promised to give me a tour of Seoul,” Chanyeol says, “and since I’m here right now, I want to take them up on that offer.”

 

Tremors seize Baekhyun, head to toe. Joy and hopefulness and anticipation blend in a blazing cocktail. In an attempt to not let it bleed into his voice, he speaks low and measured into the mic. “It’s a date then.”

  
  
  
  


This park has a great nighttime view of the Cheongdam bridge over the Han river. Baekhyun has been waiting here for ten minutes—nervous, anxious, thrilled. It’s cold, colder than previous nights, and he’s wrapped a thick scarf around his neck that reaches past his chin. Not like the cold could keep him away from waiting all night if he must.

 

“How long have you been waiting?”

 

As he whips around, Baekhyun’s heartbeat resonates in his ears. There he is. The man from his dreams, spring sweet and summer haze. Flesh and bone. Smiling down at Baekhyun shyly, his nose and ears red from the cold. 

 

“Not long,” Baekhyun answers, voice feeble. “I came early… I just couldn’t wait.”

 

Chanyeol chuckles, his breath visible in front of him. “Always so impatient.”

 

“I just had to make sure you were here for real,” Baekhyun admits, taking a step closer. Chanyeol doesn’t shy away from him. “I wouldn’t believe it until I saw you with my own two eyes.”

 

“Is it that surprising that a country boy like me is in the big city?” Chanyeol teases. “I gotta admit, it’s not as bad as I imagined it.”

 

“Have you gotten lost in the subway already?” Baekhyun jokes. Chanyeol wheezes a laugh through his nose. Despite the scarce lighting, he can spot the wrinkles around his eyes, and a strong wave of affection hits him, threatening to drag him under. 

 

He’s so stupidly in love. 

 

“Twice,” Chanyeol answers, bashful. Baekhyun laughs, feeling lighter than in months. “I arrived here a couple of days ago.”

 

Baekhyun hasn’t even asked why he is here yet, where he is staying. How long he is staying for. Somehow that doesn’t seem as important as the mere fact that he is here. In front of Baekhyun. Looking as beautiful and ethereal as he did on their last day together.

 

_ I’ve missed you _ , he wants to say. Two steps separate them. Baekhyun hates it. He wants to be close, so much closer, but he wants to wait for Chanyeol to close that distance. He doesn’t want to do anything that may make him uncomfortable. 

 

“Want to go for a walk?” Baekhyun angles his chin to the right. “I live four blocks from here.”

 

Chanyeol’s eyes light up in a way that Baekhyun recognizes. “Sure,” he says. “Let’s go.”

  
  
  
  


The chill of an early December night has ushered people inside their homes. As they walk down the streets, bound in an encompassing quiet, it feels like they’re the last two people on earth. Their shadows expand large over the damp sidewalks, and Baekhyun is reminded of his fictional lovers, strolling over the endless ribbon of night in a dream-like place just like this. 

 

Chanyeol marvels at the Christmas lights hung on trees lining the sidewalks, his smile childlike and buoyant. Baekhyun is dying to hold his hand, kiss him silly, tell him how much he’s missed him, but he keeps a safe distance for Chanyeol.

 

“So where are you staying?” 

 

“At my sister’s place.” Chanyeol shoves his hands in his pockets. “Her roommate just moved out and she wanted to see me for my birthday.”

 

Baekhyun’s head whips around. “When was it?” 

 

“Last week.” Chanyeol appears entertained as he looks over Baekhyun. “Last year of our twenties, huh? We’re a year closer to retirement.”

 

Baekhyun laughs, a puff of air floating out of his mouth. “Guess we’ll have to celebrate. I think I have some champagne at the apartment.”

  
  
  
  


“You’ve been reading the book.” Chanyeol points excitedly to the couch. “Did you like it?”

 

The Neruda collection book is open over a cushion. Several pages with Baekhyun’s favorite poems are dog-eared. “I love it.”

 

“I really loved your book, by the way.” Chanyeol toes off his shoes when Baekhyun does. They look oddly fitting next to each other over the welcoming mat. “I wasn’t lying when I said it made me cry like a baby.”

 

“I’m glad you liked it,” Baekhyun retorts. Nervousness builds inside him like steam. If Chanyeol read the book, then he must’ve seen the dedication…

 

“The heroine kind of reminded me of you,” Chanyeol tells him, lips quirked. “So smart and funny and stubborn. And the guy…”

 

“He was you,” Baekhyun admits, busying himself with untying his scarf. Staring at Chanyeol is like staring directly at the sun. “Tall, lanky… clumsy. Making people fall in love with him everywhere he goes.”

 

“You wrote me into the story…” Chanyeol stops, stares at Baekhyun carefully. It brings Baekhyun back to all those months ago, when he was trying to decipher the intensity in Chanyeol’s gaze. “Is that why you dedicated it to me?”

 

“I think it speaks for itself,” Baekhyun replies, diffident. “You were my inspiration for the story.”

 

“You breathed life back into me,” Chanyeol says, stepping close to Baekhyun, “just like you breathe life into your characters.”

 

“So is it true?” Baekhyun wonders. “What you said during the call?”

 

“That I fell in love with you?” Chanyeol sighs, cradling Baekhyun’s face. “I think you already know that.”

 

“I thought… since you said you didn’t want to suffer again…” Baekhyun trails off, overwhelmed all of a sudden. Chanyeol’s thumb strokes over his cheek. “I thought I wasn’t going to see you again.”

 

Chanyeol sweeps cold fingertips across his forehead to brush away his bangs. The habit transports Baekhyun to this spring, then right back to the present in a split-second. 

 

“All these years I’ve been too scared of living my life because of what happened the last time I tried.” Chanyeol grabs his hand and kisses his knuckles. One by one. “I was content in living in my memories, until you came along and made realize that wasn’t enough… That I was letting life slip away. Letting  _ you _ slip away.”

 

Baekhyun sets a palm over the steadfast thumping of Chanyeol’s heart. Everything feels so unreal, still. “What made you change your mind?” 

 

“While I was in Japan visiting all those amazing places and meeting new people every day,” Chanyeol whispers, “all I could think about was you. I realized that even if I didn’t have a home anymore, I still had a home here with you.”

 

“So damn cheesy.” Baekhyun can feel a single tear escaping, hot over his cool skin. Chanyeol swipes his thumb across his cheek and catches it. 

 

With a simper, Chanyeol cups Baekhyun’s cheek and brings him closer by his hip. “I think you like me anyway,” he murmurs. 

 

“Maybe a little,” he whispers, right before Chanyeol finds his mouth. It’s a tentative graze of lips, explorative, careful. Baekhyun is transported back to that day in the beach, when Chanyeol kissed him, and he tasted of salt and something new. Tonight, he tastes of milky coffee and longing and so many unsaid things. 

 

They don’t move an inch, their mouths idly grazing each other. Baekhyun wants to savor this moment, taste the affection left over the seams of his lips from the kiss.

 

“Am I dreaming?”

 

Chanyeol’s mouth twists. “’M afraid not.” Fingers tug at the short hairs on his nape. “Thank you for waiting until I figured my shit out.”

 

Six months of waiting. The letter had ignited a spark of hope within Baekhyun, tremulous but valiant, that Chanyeol would return to him. With Chanyeol here, solid and real and beautiful, reciprocating his touches, his  _ feelings _ , Baekhyun is not afraid anymore. The words he’s kept under several locks race to the surface, speaking a truth clearer than the skies of Yangsu in springtime.

 

_ I love him. I love him. I love him _ . 

 

“You haven’t told me why you’re in Seoul.” Baekhyun slips his hands under Chanyeol’s coat to take it off and throw it over the couch. “Is it just for me?”

 

“Well, I’m going back to school.” Chanyeol draws a sheepish smile over Baekhyun’s cheek. “I know I’m nearly thirty, but if it’s not now, then when?” 

 

“I can’t believe I’m kissing a college boy,” Baekhyun muses with a grin. Chanyeol wheezes amusedly through his nose and leans in so their foreheads touch. “So you’ll be staying…”

 

“Indefinitely.” Chanyeol rubs their noses together. A tiny Eskimo kiss. “And maybe when I’m done with school I can go back to the country and build my own house… but I’ll definitely have floor heating this time. What do you think?”

 

“I think it’s a great idea.” A wobbly laugh bubbles out of Baekhyun, with all the happiness overflowing in his chest. “But I don’t know if I can date a guy who wears dungarees, no matter how cute they look in them…”

 

Chanyeol’s laugh is a musical sound. “And I don’t know if I can date a guy who doesn’t have taste.”

 

“I guess we’ll have to compromise.” 

 

They undress each other without effort. Baekhyun drags his lips over Chanyeol’s collarbones, his pectorals, the defined lines of his abdomen. On cue, Chanyeol moans, husky and deep, when he sucks a mark over his adam’s apple. He is just like Baekhyun remembers him, and at the same time, he’s a completely different man. Chanyeol must feel the same, by the way he traces every inch of Baekhyun he can reach, determined to map him out again.

 

“Byun Baekhyun.” Chanyeol exhales against the inside of Baekhyun’s thigh. Baekhyun withers, biting his lip as he smiles down at his lover. Chanyeol holds Baekhyun’s gaze, resolute and unguarded. “I’m yours, too.”

 

It’s been months, eternal months, of uncertainty, of longing for Chanyeol. He can’t quite believe this is  _ his _ Chanyeol, and not another one of his treacherous dreams. And here it is, the answer to a question Baekhyun had made months ago.

 

“I love you.”

 

Chanyeol seeks Baekhyun’s mouth again, hungrily, as if it hadn’t been minutes since the last time. Touches brand themselves into skin, fiery and inerasable. Every breath and kiss a promise. Baekhyun marks the three words to every inch of Chanyeol he can find, just like Chanyeol had tattooed poetry over his body under the sunshine. 

 

This is _ real.  _ He is his, and he is love.

 

“I love you, too.” Chanyeol hovers above his sternum and stamps a kiss there. Over his heart, where he belongs. “I will stay with you for as long as you’ll have me.”

  
  
  
  


The book ends in a bittersweet note. The man wakes up from his coma, but he doesn’t remember his ex-girlfriend. As they begin speaking, he remembers bits of old moments together, of walking through streets at night, inhabited by the ghost of their first love. 

 

It ends there, with the two old lovers in a dimly lit room, on the tentative verge of a new beginning.

 

The dedication is divided in four short lines:

 

_ For Chanyeol, _

_ this story,  _

_ my soul and body, _

_ are yours. _


End file.
